Distraught
by Flitz
Summary: Mixed universe: a young thief becomes a hot commodity
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men or Shield, any related subjects belongs to Marvel. Not me-- apparently my fairy godmother died, the good witch was a bad witch, the lamp was a dud, the leprechaun was really just a midget, my wishing star was actually an airplane, and the unicorn was just a really big goat.

A/N: I wasn't sure what universe to put this in, and my set up might be a tad confusing so here's how I see it:  Xavier mansion is more movieverse-has actual students not just a base; characters are a mix between comic and movieverse.  

A red-headed teen stumbled trying to stall his progress as two muscled Shield officers tried to propel him forward into the marble lined halls of the Xavier Institute.  Shield officers were well trained but they were breathing heavily. Both would be glad when this assignment ended. The kid didn't look like much, too skinny, but he moved like liquid, the damn kid was slippery as hell. They almost lost him, which would be embarrassing considering the teen was still in handcuffs.

Said teen wrenched a shoulder and the two officers were hard-pressed to keep their grip.  The wild eyed Cajun teen was getting distraught; he'd almost dislocated his arm on the last stunt.  Though the guard mused, he'd probably be upset too given the situation.

His charge was the youngest son of the Guild Master of the New Orleans Thieves Guild. Conventional police outside of New Orleans thought them nothing more than a myth, but those in higher positions were well aware of the existence of this illustrious guild.  The Guild Master had been shot in a random drive by from an unknown street hood. The son had been with him at the time and worked frantically to save his life.  A near by tenant had called the police and EMT's had shown up to work on the fallen man.  He couldn't be saved, though the kid had held his father's hand the entire time talking to him.  As any accident site, bystanders and police milled about the scene. One lucky or unlucky officer had recognized the kid, glowing red eyes were fairly prominent and he lunged for the kneeled form to take him into custody.  

Overcome with grief the child thief had stayed too long. He fought free of that cop's grasp leaving the man choking on the ground.  But close to twenty cops had filled the narrow alleyway and escape was cut off by the meandering crowd that had formed.  Despite his skill in combat he was eventually taken down.

The authorities were salivating at the thought of a Guild thief in their grasp no matter what the age. Guild trained their members from birth, this kid was seventeen, most likely a full member.  Guild thieves were the best, but they hardly ever worked for any government agencies.  That made this acquisition all the more tempting. The kid never even made it to a New Orleans jail cell, the Guilds were known for re-apprehending any member who was caught. A Shield contingent was called and the barely conscious kid was taken into the helicarrier and placed in a cell with a mutant suppression device.  The cell had no doors or locks, all four walls of his cell were energy fields.

All the espionage agencies were clamoring for his head.  Nick Fury had been personally disgusted; no matter how he grew up it was still just a kid.  Previously he had directed certain mutant criminals to the Xavier Institute if he thought they were worth the effort of rehabilitation.   

Fury had been down to see the teen when he was brought in, who remained steadfastly silent.  The few telepaths they had on the payroll were unable to exhort a word, but his eyes spit defiance, sparking even with the suppression collar on.  Fury didn't like such devices, but since according to the file on the blood work they'd taken the kid was an energy converter.  The collar was probably sensible, that type of mutation usually ended up costing a lot of money in reconstruction. 

 But past the anger and the grief in those red eyes Fury had seen intelligence, much more than he thought a person his age should possess.  He might not go willingly, but Xavier's was for now the best place for the young Cajun.  

He was worried until the agencies decided who deserved first crack at the Guild member the kid just might disappear under everyone's noses.  So he figured he'd get the head start on the job.   Fury had made a few clandestine calls which led to two of his agents escorting a hostile teen down a hall as the headmaster of the Institute approached them.

The officers had the edge when they were using momentum to get their young captive's cooperation, but now they were forced to stop and hold their ground.  The first officer frowned wondering how to keep the slippery teen in place for this meeting, but his partner chose for him quickly slamming the teen into the marble-lined wall leaving the kid dazed.  Shield officers were required to be well trained and complete their missions, no where was a requirement for kindness.

Professor Charles Xavier and his first student Scott Summers frowned at the punishment recently inflicted upon the young man in front of them. Frowns deepened as the cuffed youngster shook his head slightly, long auburn hair falling in his face, and they noticed a blinking collar.

"Is that really necessary?" steamed Cyclops.  The officer who had slammed the teen into the wall spoke,

"If you want the kid docile enough to stand still for five minutes yeah.  This one's slippery as an eel.  The collars staying on until we leave, the kid's some sort of energy wielder, I don't want to get zapped anytime today."  The guard gestured to the captive's hands he was holding onto and pointed out cuffs with no visible locking mechanism. 

"You're gonna have to cut these off if you don't want them on.  Kid's a thief, so locks aren't really a deterrent for him."

"Was starving him necessary too?" scalded Cyclops a hand sweeping toward the lanky form.

"Hey, we only got the kid in custody less than twenty-four hours ago, he was like this before we got him," spoke the first officer defending his organization. Xavier continued his cursory examination of the mutant thief while Cyclops spoke with the authorities. 

 Cyclops was right, the teenager was entirely too thin.  Long, thick auburn hair shone in the hallway lights just long enough to touch his collar.  Messy bangs were nearly as long and obscured the majority of his face, though rough stubble could be seen tracing a sculpted chin, only part of an elegant nose was visible. 

 The teen was dressed simply in old jeans and a t-shirt that both emphasized the young man's lightly-muscled physique and showed an unhealthy leanness for a boy his age.  The shirt was a dark blue that was ripped in several places, but the jeans looked the worst, splashes of dark brown covered them, similar stains marred the young mutant's hands, blood.  And if Fury's information was correct, it was his father's blood that coated the young man's attire.

Fury was Logan's contact, though lately he had been talking with the professor as well.  Usually Fury would send the school mutant teens who had committed a minor offense, those he thought could be reformed.  He never asked about the ones he sent, though they'd yet to have a student revert to their criminal actions.  Most of them had run out of options and were grateful for a chance to start over.

This child was different. Apparently a prestigious thief in his own right, and son of an important leader was all Fury had been willing to divulge.  This child, unlike the others, he wanted back. He would only say that some intelligence organizations were interested in the orphaned boy and Fury wanted the boy safe until the politics were figured out.  He warned Xavier not to be beguiled, the child was to be treated as a potential threat, and to never leave him unattended, or he would slip through the professor's fingers.

Cyclops had moved farther into the hall towards the two officers, "We'll take it from here," he said coldly, not pleased with the treatment the mutant was given.  

"Sure, knock yourself out, I'm glad to get rid of him, kid's more of a headache than he's worth," spoke the abusive guard relinquishing a chain that looped around the cuffs into Cyclops hand.  The guards left quickly, and Cyclops felt somewhat ill holding the young man captive, chain in hand.

The professor wheeled forward slightly toward the mutant boy who had recovered from the strike to the head and stiffened upon the professor's approach.

 "I am Professor Charles Xavier, I run a school for mutants here in Westchester.   Mutants learn how to deal with their powers safely and for the benefit of mankind." He paused bringing a hand to rest lightly on his chin, "You will be staying here for some time, I regret we couldn't have met under better circumstances.  I am truly sorry for your loss."

Xavier wasn't expecting a verbal response, as the young mutant had been stonewalling everyone but he watched his expression.  The upper half of his face was unreadable due to the bangs but he was sure he saw a momentary snarl cover his mouth. He probably thought he had only exchanged captors, nothing more.  Professor Xavier wanted to disabuse him of the notion, even if it was for the time being the truth.  He would find some way for Fury to let the child stay, this teen needed the school, possibly more than anyone else he had ever seen.

"Until you become accumulated to your new situation Cyclops will be one of your main contacts," the professor continued.  "Scott if you would show him to his room? After you remove the restraints of course." 

Cyclops nodded briefly and motioned for the teen to go before him.  Scott was conflicted, a fellow orphan and mutant he wanted to help the teen, but according to Fury he was also an accomplished thief, a criminal.  Cyclops led his young charge through mostly empty halls, though a student would appear occasionally and stare beleaguered at one of their teachers escorting a bloodied handcuffed teen down the halls at three in the morning.  

He tapped on a door briefly and swung it open on the third floor, only Wolverine lived on this level but they'd all agreed this was the best place for the thief, away from the students for now.  Cyclops had momentarily moved to the third floor as well, to better guard their guest.

Wolverine looked up as Scott entered, "Kid here yet?" he questioned roughly.  

In response Cyclops held up the slightly clanking chains, "Could use some help cutting these off, then I'm going to show him his room," replied Cyclops.

"Sure, Cyke, but your taking first shift tonight on watching the kid, I'm going to Harry's tonight."

"Fine," sighed Cyclops he wanted to get time to talk with Jean before going on duty, but apparently he would have to wait again.  Wolverine came into the hallway slightly surprised at what he saw. The kid on the end of Scottie's chains had thief written all over him, wild hair chased down to the nap of his neck, eyes invisible in the fringe.  

The way he carried himself told Wolverine the kid was no amateur, and he wondered briefly if they would be able to keep the kid around given Xavier's free movement policy.  After they made sure the kid wasn't going to bolt Charles planned on letting him go anywhere, even classes as long as he didn't leave the school grounds.  Logan would rather keep the kid locked in his room indefinitely somehow forgetting where he left the key. Their temporary guest reminded Wolverine strongly of Whippets- fast, sleek, quick to bite, and muscular though you still wanted to add thirty pounds or so onto their frames so their ribs wouldn't stick out quite so much.

The one thing he immediately disliked, other than the fact that the teen was covered in someone else's blood was that he couldn't see his eyes.  If someone was going to attack it always showed in their eyes first, and Logan didn't want to lose that advantage.  He gave Cyclops a small signal and took notice when Cyke tightened his hold on the teen's chains.

 Wolverine quickly leapt, claws popping out of his hands midswing.  The red-head attempted to duck, but Cyclops held him up without apparent effort, the kid mustn't have weighed much.  Realizing that plan off escape was cut off he tried to dodge left but Wolverine's stroke had already sank home.  A slight shearing sound was heard and several inches of the red-head's bangs fell to the ground.  They were still lengthy, but his eyes at least were now partially visible.

Crimson pupils were surrounded by jet black pools; Wolverine swallowed a curse as he watched the pupils pulsed slightly. A faint glow he hadn't detected through the bangs began overshooting his eyes so that from a distance all you would see would be the red.

"Better," proclaimed Wolverine, and gave a shoulder a quick shove so the kid faced Cyclops who was able to keep his face neutral at the kid's obvious mutant eyes.  Wolverine triggered his claws once more and sliced through the restraints that tethered the kid.  He picked them up and lightly tossed them in his room, he'd stick them in the shed later.  The red eyed mutant stared at the two men, as if judging his odds at escape.  Logan noticed the teen paying particular attention to his hands, as if waiting for the claws to jump out again.

"How are your wrists?" asked Scott.  He was promptly ignored, but continued onward anyways, "I don't know for sure how long you'll be here, but while you are, your room will be this one, 332 between Logan's and mine.  After you've become…accumulated to the situation you will be allowed full run of the facilities, within reason," spoke Cyclops using the professor's words.

"There are rather severe securities measures here including telepaths that make regular scanning sweeps, and about seventy other mutants who will be aware of your presence.  There are clothes for you in your room; meals are irregular, served in the dining room."  Scott took a breath in his tirade mentally reviewing to make sure he'd covered all the salient points, and opened the door to the middle room.

After being lead inside, the two men left the unfriendly appearing teen alone in his room, "Any questions?" was met with dutiful silence and a flashing glare, apparently he didn't like his haircut.  Or Scott chastised himself for his gallows humor, it was because he had lost his father and his freedom all within twenty-four hours.

Please Review! Next chapter is in progress….


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men or Shield, any related subjects belongs to Marvel. **

Muscles quivering sporadically the young mutant thief known as Remy LeBeau paced, a personification of rage.  His barely shoulder length auburn hair tangled about his face, his hands clenching intermediately, breathing short shaky gusts through his nose.

How dare they, the Cajun thief fumed grinding his teeth, what gave them the right?  His father had just been murdered, and the police hauled him away before the blood dried. No innocent to governmental indiscretions Remy was still aghast at their audacity, abducting a Guild member was not an intelligent decision. It hadn't been a legal arrest, but the one thing the child thief had learned about rules was they weren't followed by those with the power to step around them.

Reveling in his anger the teen's crimson orbs burned brightly in the unlit room. The belittling sympathy from Xavier, and the offhandish behavior of both Cyclops and Logan goaded him.  And before, watching all the officials scurry around his temporary cell aboard the helicarrier trying to make a deal, appraising him as if they could envision dollar signs, it made him sick.  

No longer on display for snotty bureaucrats and pretentious administrators he had let his emotions run rampant.  The anger pulsed through him, throbbing with his heart beat before he forced it down.  The lanky teen knew he had an irrepressible temper that flared wildly, but living in rage was for when you were out of options. If he wanted to escape he needed to plan and anger blinded him from seeing beyond the moment.  

Planting himself dourly on the maple framed bed, he gave up his fruitless pacing and silent curses.  For the first time he noted his surroundings, an unusual mixture of technology and antiques according to his appraising eye.  No phone of course, but a television, DVD, stereo, alarm clock and what he assumed was an intercom built into the wall. The furniture was made of dark maple as a matching set to the half sleigh bed. There were two unopened doors supposedly one for a closet and one for an attached bath. The room had been done up in dark green and cream, suggesting a relaxed atmosphere that created a hefty dissonance with the vengeful thoughts rebounding in his skull. 

Running a quick hand through his hair distressed, the teen closed his eyes tightly no longer able to focus and avoid the surfacing litany jabbering in his mind.  The events from scant hours ago replayed warped out of sequence. It was inescapable, Jean Luc, his pere was dead. Gunned down like a common criminal in the alley instead of the great man he was. Repeating it again it still retained its quality of the surreal.   It wasn't supposed to happen like this; it wasn't supposed to happen at all.

The mutant thief remembers only vaguely being manhandled into custody, consciousness slipping out of his grasp. The teen hadn't become overly concerned until the police cruiser was pulled over and he was transferred onto the Shield helicarrier. In his hometown Guild connections would have easily gotten him out of jail. An international espionage agency that had its base in the sky would take considerably more skill. Shield officers had questioned him extensively but he hadn't said a word. Well worn and weathered mental defenses kept out their telepaths scrabbling against his shields prying for information. 

The agents themselves hadn't been forthright with information, but thieves were required to know every government op.  Their dark blue uniforms seemed standard for the higher class government agencies, but the helicarrier had narrowed it down to two options, Safe or Shield.  Glaring at those who surrounded his cell Remy had been able to identify the organization by the presence of one man, Nick Fury. Operating head of Shield he matched his file perfectly, eye patch, slight graying at the temples and biting a cigar he was unmistakable.  Remy had expected incarceration from the vaunted agent, not a school to result.  No explanations had been offered, and Remy knew better than to engage in conversation.  

He recalled being yanked out of the NOPD cruiser, and the sudden feeling of utter stillness that had descended at the activation of the collar. The familiar flow of energy around him was gone, so too was the light shimmering that overrode his vision detailing higher energy sources.

However, there was still another to consider. His power to charm.  The teen wasn't sure why this power had remained unaffected, but it had always felt separate from his charging powers, maybe the device only had the ability to dampen one power type.  Remy had considered using his charm, but often unreliable in nature it might only serve to worsen his situation. For now it would be the better choice to rely on something more stable with less chance of backlash.

Frustrated the red haired youth's thoughts slipped backward again, his hand trembling before he forcibly steadied it.  Jean Luc was dead. The phrase kept ringing through his consciousness no matter how much he tried to deny it.  Dead, it didn't seem right, didn't seem fair.  They hadn't been on Guild business, if they had both would have been wearing body armor, and after dealing with the gutless shooter it would have become another tale of retribution at the Guild meeting houses.  Had Remy chosen to walk on the opposite side of the alley he would have caught the stream of bullets, not Jean Luc.  

Jean Luc had saved his life by taking him off the streets. No matter how self-reliant the young boy had become, Remy couldn't fool himself into thinking he could have safely remained on the streets as a physically mutated child. Remy had been unable to return the favor.  

Glancing at the dried substance that covered his person, the Cajun teen rose unsteadily to wash his father's blood from his hands. He blearily recalled a biblical quote about the blood of the father, but couldn't remember the context.  He hadn't had anything to do with his father's death, had he?

The distressed youth made it to the bathroom watching as the blood stained the water and swirled lazily down the drain.  Blood soaked jeans stuck to his muscular legs uncomfortably and he considered changing clothes as well, but decided against it.  He didn't want to accept anything from these people. It didn't matter whether they called it a school or not, he didn't want to be here, it was his prison.  

Leaving the bathroom quickly, he thrust back intruding thoughts of his family to focus on an escape.  Remy scanned his room… his cell he corrected viciously, anger resparking.  He knew that he was on the third floor of a Victorian styled house, but that wasn't particularly enlightening. 

Remy moved to the sole window, checking it for the possibility of an escape route.  Even if he was on the third floor, he should be able to climb down, or if not, he was desperate enough to free-fall in hopes of a graceful landing.  Throwing aside patterned curtains and hauling up cream blinds he was taken aback by the sight of actual bars on the window.  

He blinked jerking his head back in surprise, the window wouldn't be his escape that he was sure of.  The red-headed teen almost looked for the moon to be shining through to paint bars on the floor as well but it retained its darkness. Crimson and ebony eyes gave him incredible night vision rendering the pervading gloom negligent. He reached out a hand to finger the bars, wrapping both hands around them he set his forehead there resting momentarily. 

If he had his full powers, he could have easily laughed it off and blown them, and the teen was just in the right mood to do so.  But the collar digging into his neck served to remind him he had been bereft of his powers since Shield's arrival. The thought of being permanently caged catalyzed ingrained thief instincts. Turning about swiftly he tossed the room with an ease that suggested it was a practiced art.  Rifling through the desk, the dresser, running his hands against the walls, he didn't find what he was searching for.

The teen was feeling contemptuous to his captors, not being able to speak freely was wearing on him.  With that thought in mind he decided to leave the room in its disheveled state. Xavier had to know he was planning an escape, or his room wouldn't have metal bars on the window, he wasn't giving away any new information. Briefly he wondered if this room had been detailed earlier, or if they had made it just to house him.  If the second were true, he was slightly daunted at the level of their preparedness considering warning of his arrival must have been minimal.

His search had proved the room vacant of anything that could remotely be used as either an effective weapon or a lock pick. Even the hangers he found in the small closet were plastic. But he was somewhat satisfied to know that he hadn't found any cameras or listening devices either. Unknowingly he returned a hand to his collar, fingers running gingerly over the inhibitor, cold metal remaining unwarmed by his tanned skin. 

Remy knew he had to get back to his home in New Orleans, to Tante Mattie and Henri. They'd be able help him, if he made a quick escape he might even get to attend his father's funeral. The Guilds had to be in an upheaval, the thieves would be demoralized and the assassins pacing the borders.   Realizing his own attention was fleeting the teen brushed away his concerns for the Guilds forcing himself to concentrate on more immediate matters, like cataloging the room. A task he knew he had set for himself several times only to be continually diverted.

There was only one air vent in the room, but it wouldn't fit his tapered frame even if he resorted to dislocating a shoulder.  Besides which, the red head didn't relish the idea of potentially becoming lost in an unknown duct system. Crimson eyes swept through the room once more noting every detail, searching for something he might have overlooked. 

His gaze settled on the electronics array, fairly impressive but not helpful in its own right. He might be able to pry off the cover on an outlet to obtain a suitable wire, but the threat of electric shock convinced him to find another option.  From the fleeting glance he had of the mansion he knew the style suggested it had been around for over a century.  But the hardware in the room suggested it was had been updated significantly.  The television caught his attention as he saw his own red eyes reflecting back at him. If this mansion had been updated regularly since its foundation perhaps there would be something he could use. 

Most people had cable television, it was a given though today it was usually accomplished with satellites.  Before the abundance of satellites, a cable line came up through the floor to attach to the TV, most people forgot they were even there and didn't bother to remove them.

Now slightly regretting leaving the clothes from the dresser strewn about the floor the teen moved them aside quickly, hand searching the dark green carpet.  He pulled back a questing hand as it caught on something sharp. Reaching his hand back under the maple desk he felt more cautiously and pulled the cable to him.  There it was plastic casing and all.  Wishing for his duster he bit into the casing with his teeth before starting to strip it the rest of the way with nimble fingers. 

His trench coat had nearly become his trademark; he found it easy to store necessities like weapons, food, tools, or to hide objects he just might not have obtained legally.  Unfortunately his coat was probably in a dumpster somewhere or more likely an evidence locker since he had shed it as an impromptu bandage for his father's wounds. Having successfully removed the casing Remy was able to pry the small but sufficiently thick piece of metal from the twine of wire, it wasn't as long as he'd like but it was the best option he had.

Stepping cautiously toward the door the anxious thief almost expected it to fly open of its own accord. He eased his hastily created pick into the lock quickly bending it to the correct shape, one of the first tricks he'd learned before graduating to much more advanced modes of breaking and entering.  Although this was his first time of actually trying to break out of somewhere, he spent most of his life trying to get in.  A few moments of silence passed before he tasted victory heralded by a muted click.  His heart skittered; he was getting out this school, away from Shield and back home where he belonged.

The crimson eyed teen edged open the door peering out stealthfully before a sudden scowl blossomed on his face. Throwing the door open the rest of the way he let it rebound off the frame noisily.  Before the door sat his own personal guard, Cyclops.  

"I thought you might find a way to pick that lock," he commented mildly "what did you use? I thought I cleared everything out."  Leaning against the opposite wall Cyclops watched the near escapee sizing him up, feral expression of hatred etched in the mutant thief's features, nostrils flaring tightly, eyes slitted like a cat.

Remy was indeed taking the measure of the man before him. Xavier explained everyone at the school was a mutant and the red shades the twenty-four year old wore made him appear menacing even with the slight smile.   Extra caution should be used when dealing with unknowns, but the thief was an admirable fighter even without his powers and was considering taking his chances with a brawl. 

 A cold trickle found its way through the room, a telepath ghosting past the Cajun's shields. The red-tinged glasses on Summers's face glinted as he tilted his head in consideration, "Can you feel that?" he asked with genuine curiosity.  

The thief realized he must have given some signal to betray his startlement and recomposed himself so no more emotions could leak through.  Inside he was boiling, heat rushing through his limbs at the obvious defeat. The other man's threat was clear, before Remy would be able to depose of Cyclops he could easily send a telepathic shout to the rest of the mansion if he hadn't done so already. Completely caught up in devising an escape the teen had ignored the door until his escape.  If he had paid more attention he could have caught the slight shift in shadows that would have betrayed the man's presence. 

If the captive thief were to escape, it wouldn't be with a group of mutants clamoring on his trail. A strong feeling told him that Cyclops wasn't going to be surrendering his post anytime soon, and the continuance of the telepath's presence convinced him to grudgingly move back into the room.  The door swung back near silently, but the potential for hostility was thick enough to wade through, viscous in the air.  Lip curling in defiance, Remy consoled himself with the knowledge that there would be another opportunity, patience was key to a thief's existence. 

Biting back the bitter sigh that threatened to escape, the adrenaline rush that he'd been coasting lapsed with frightening speed.   The teenager felt the moisture return to his eyes that he had thought he'd banished but whether from frustration, anger, or depression he wasn't sure. Disgusted with himself he lay down on the hunter green comforter.

Mentally exhausted he succumbed to slumber, failed plans of escape blurring with the final moments of his father. Holding on to a hand that grew weaker, desperately pleading for him not to leave. 

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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men or Shield, any related subjects belongs to Marvel.  **

Patting his jean pockets repeatedly before realizing they were empty, Wolverine stood before the door of the thief that Shield had dropped off for safe keeping.  Forgotten, the key still lay downstairs in Xavier's office. Logan almost turned back to get it, but dismissed the thought for expedience.   

He pounded once on the door before triggering his claws slicing through the metal as if it were an everyday occurrence.  According to Cyclops the kid had managed to get past the door, so having the lock wasn't really serving a purpose.  Well, that's what he planned on telling Xavier.  Wolverine entered quickly illuminating the room to find a raggedly breathing teen eyes slitted against the intrusive light crouched by the bed as if he had rolled off to land in a defensive position.  Had Wolverine been present for that action he would have been impressed by the fluid motion that had produced it. 

Wolverine made a quick grunt of dismissal at the thief's antics before speaking, "Good yer awake already. Didn't take much time for you to make yerself at home?" he asked referring to the shambled mess the teen had left of the room.  The thief didn't look much better than the room he had destroyed, what had been barely visible copper stubble the night before had gained shadowing his sculpted jaw prominently. Thick auburn hair lay tangled across his shoulder blades.  Clothing from the night before hadn't improved, the scent and stain of blood firmly entrenched.

Considering the early hour the red eyed thief had been brought in, the X-men had decided to let him sleep into the day.  Glancing down at his watch Wolverine noted they still had some time before he had to be the authority figure in the dining hall as an adjunct to his duties guarding the thief.  The other X-men would be occupied with the meeting Xavier was holding to discuss their role in the thief's life.

Wolverine spoke then, simply looking for a reaction, "We got time yet kid, take a shower, you reek of somebody else's death." He got nothing, except perhaps a hardening about the eyes.  The kid made no move to comply; which surprised Logan, generally anyone who had seen his claws was a little more cooperative.  Wolverine was yet to decide whether it was strong nerves or idiocy since the kid hadn't spoken since his arrival. But being a Guild thief, Logan was betting on the third choice, misplaced arrogance.

Fury had been more secretive about the thief than he normally was with his transfers so Logan had decided to find out the information on his own. If a Guild Master was murdered and his son kidnapped the news would hit the underground hard.  That's where he'd been last night, looking for the kid's identity, but it had been too early for his sources to have anything concrete.  His contacts were supposed to e-mail the information on a secure line to the Institute as soon they could get their hands on it. It might be a little easier to deal with the rowdy teen if they knew more about him.

The kid was standing motionless still in the defensive posture he had been in upon Logan's arrival.   "Listen up punk," Logan started, "I ain't got all day here," he said his shallow reserve of patience drying up quickly, "There's a bunch of younger kids out there, ya ain't going out there covered in blood, bub. Some of them are here to get away from shit like this, they don't need you running around to remind them," he ground out with a growl.

The mutant teen uncurled edging closer to the door and made his first intentional effort at communication; upper lip curling in distaste and he raised his left arm, casually flipping him off.

Logan growled deep in his throat, why was it always the hard way? Diving quickly for the teen he was shocked when the slender thief dodged it with minimal effort. A knee caught Logan in the chest the same leg following down to smash his boot. Logan unsheathed his claws and the thief abruptly back flipped away from the deadly weapons. 

Wolverine rushed forward again and a fluid battle proceeded: advance, swipe, block, evade, again.  Both were quicker than they appeared, but the advantages were obvious. The teen flowed through his attacks, his lithe lightly muscled form darting in for swift shots.  The elder man had considerably more power behind his punches and set of lethal appendages, if Wolverine could hold on to the wily teen he would easily be the victor. 

Executing a swift spin in the narrow room provided the teen avoided slashing claws and aimed a punch to Wolverine's temple throwing his entire body weight behind it.  The blow would be disorienting to a normal enemy, but to someone who with an adamantium laced skeleton, it was more likely to do damage to the fist. The thief abandoned the next step to his maneuver and retreated nursing his hand.  Adamantium claws struck out again not letting the red haired thief escape unscathed. Claw marks adorned the furniture, walls, and the teen's clothing but only occasionally drew blood, significant damage avoided by an undulating form of the thief.

Wolverine suddenly halted, backing up to give the teen space and held up his own hand, claws subducting back into their flesh housings. The thief's eyes blared defiance and he pressed for another attack but stopped as well half way across the distance. Several faint tearing sounds were heard and the thief looked down in time to see the remaining wisps of his shirt detach and fall to the floor.  The jeans were in similar condition, Logan hadn't sliced them haphazardly, if the teen tried for another acrobatic attack they might suffer the same fate as his shirt.

"Yer lucky kid, I'm feelin' generous, that coulda been your skin," Logan grumbled, lip twitching over small fangs.  "Now unless ya want to walk into a room full of mutants in yer jockeys I suggest ya take the shower and change. Got it?" he asked.  Wolverine had a feeling the thief wanted a shower after sleeping in bloodied clothes but was too stubborn to do what he was told.  Feeling a glimmer of satisfaction Wolverine watched as the young thief grabbed an assortment of clothing off the floor and stalked off for the shower.

Depositing himself in the desk chair, Logan settled down to wait.  He didn't expect compliance right away, but if he had to get in a physical fight with the kid just to get him outta the room it was gonna be a pain in the ass.  Wolverine had a feeling that Scottie and Charles would be all over his case for scratching the kid up, but he figured the red eyed mutant wouldn't be filing a complaint.

Wolverine's sensitive ears easily picked out when the shower turned on and he went over the damage the scruffy thief had done to the room. The bed was almost untouched, a small miracle after their morning exercise. The dresser and closet didn't fare as well, gouged roughly from his claws they had also been emptied of their wares forming a shifting sea over the carpet.  

Cyclops had mentioned the red haired teenager's attempt at escape and Logan wasn't really surprised.  The Guilds were fairly secretive even for those under regular government scrutiny, but Logan had known enough about their skill levels to insist on adding bars to the window.  Another precaution had been sending Cyke to clear out the room but apparently he had missed something.  

At the cessation of the water Logan waited exactly three minutes before rapping smartly on the bathroom door.  "Alright kid lunch, let's go," he hollered through the door, "I've got things to do, and ya got people to glare at."

The disgruntled teen walked out brusquely as if it had been his idea, looking only slightly less disreputable than the first meeting.  Light-colored jeans that were probably a size too small hugged his lower half ending in a dark brown pair of calf-length boots that he had been brought in with. The white shirt was a simple long sleeved tee though it seemed to fit him correctly, just the right amount of material piling at the waist to hide protruding ribs.  Shower-fresh skin was a little raw, darkening his lightly tanned complexion.  The wet hair that had been pulled back into a ponytail also darkened pigment to rosewood red highlights gleaming in the damp tresses.  His crimson eyes continued to glitter ethereally, however the radiance that had surrounded them was diminished in the afternoon light.

Logan chuckled to himself as he saw several pieces of the reddish hair slip out of position to frame the thief's face, a result of his makeshift haircut the previous night.  Motioning for the thief to move before him Logan watched as the thief slinked over cautiously. Slowly stepping behind the red-eyed mutant to avoid startling him, he placed his right hand on the coiled muscle of the thief's neck, just above the collar. "Try anything, and you'll get three claws coming outta the front of yer throat, I ain't chasing ya got it?" he continued fighting the urge to shake the thief now that he had the disruptive teen by the throat, " I don't care what Fury or Xavier wants ya for, they can get ya back in pieces." Slowly the pair made their way through the halls, one the smooth silent strides of intrinsic grace, the other the firm echoing steps of his keeper.

Wolverine's muscles tensed, alert for any change in the thief's posture awaiting another escape attempt.  Instead the red-haired thief was acquiescent, letting himself be directed by a suspicious dark haired Canadian.  At the entrance to the dining hall Logan released his hold on the captive thief and moved to lean against the wall.

He watched sourly as the teen placed himself almost in the exact center of the room.  The thief's appearance, both as a new face, and someone who had red eyes setting off a faint but visible aura quickly drew attention from the rest of the students.  Jubilee, one of the senior students, immediately sat down next to him drawing a reluctant but blushing Kitty Pryde behind her.  The three instantly picked up a conversation, well more accurately Jubilee and Kitty spoke at the thief.  He made gestures as if he couldn't speak and the girls had sighed, nodding empathetically.  They probably thought he was just another student from abroad, the school had a tendency to pick up strays globally.  As a result most of the students were used to classmates having problematic English.

Xavier had bluffed the other night, the majority of the students had no knowledge that the Institute was playing prison guard to the teen.  The few students who had seen were spoken to and sworn to silence. Of course that wouldn't last for long, hopefully Fury could deal with the interagency bullshit and pick up his prize before any serious incidents occurred. Wolverine knew that Xavier wanted to keep the kid at the Institute, probably as another one of his 'projects', but after spending a few scant hours with the red-eyed thief Logan had a feeling it would be much harder to reform the thief than Xavier envisioned. 

Wolverine frowned at the scene before him, not only that his favorite students Jubilee and Kitty were with the thief, but that the kid who had been ill tempered since his arrival had suddenly reversed, and open expression on his face.  He smiled sunnily, as if he hadn't just witnessed his father's last breath and been captured by a government agency. Even without speaking his wide grin stretched over a face that Adonis would envy had both the girls giggling impishly.  One of the male students drifted over and was integrated into their conversation, laughing at a joke Jubilee had told laying her hand on the thief's arms at the punch line. Wolverine recrossed his arms and growled, sending a silent petition for Fury to hasten his efforts.

Back in the decadent wood paneled office of Charles Xavier his students were gathered in their civilian attire.  Storm sat elegantly, a brief smile gracing her delicate features in greeting. Cyclops and Jean Grey had entered together, a stern expression on Scott's face that had become his default expression.  Jean wore an uneasy smile of her own, cabernet hued strands brought up loosely behind her.  Storm had arrived only recently, when an interview with a potential student had gone late she had decided to stay at a hotel rather than drive through the night. Since she had been absent for the teen's arrival Xavier wanted to brief her on the unique situation the X-men had found themselves in.

"So," posed Jean "have we learned anything new about our guest?"

"We know he's really good at picking locks and pissing off Wolverine," spoke Cyclops disgruntled, referring to the events of last night and earlier in the afternoon.  "I'm telling you Professor," added Scott seriously, "there was a moment when I thought I was going to have to use my optic blasts.  I can't prove it, but I think he can feel a telepaths presence, he wouldn't have backed off if it had just been me. One of the students on the second floor said she could hear Logan fighting this afternoon.  Normal students don't have fist fights with their teachers; we're not going to be able to keep this a secret for much longer."

The professor frowned at the announcement; it was in the young mutants best interest to remain inconspicuous and he had hoped Logan would be able to refrain from violence.  Usually his mere presence was enough to entreat the students into submission, of course, most of then weren't recently orphaned professional thieves either.

"What about his mutation?" interrupted Storm.

"Well I haven't been given a sample to test," sighed Jean discontentedly, "but the Shield officers said he's an energy converter."

"Well," Scott shifted uncomfortably, "since he's already here, you could probably get a sample if you wanted one." Jean wrinkled her brow leaning forward in her seat,

"But do we have the right? Not just about the sample," she exemplified waving her hand, "this whole scenario.  This school was built to help young mutants with their powers; right now this kid doesn't even have access to his powers.   Professor you've never held students against their will.  At what point did this school become a detention center?"

"Jean," admonished Professor Xavier, "if we had not offered the school as a way station he would be in an actual prison right now.  Don't you think this is far better? In either case, I have hopes of convincing Fury to let him remain here. And once the child has proven his stability we can remove the collar and help him with his mutation."

"What if you cannot convince Colonel Fury, do you plan to let him exploit this mutant child?" questioned Storm, ignoring the fact that she was only four years older than the teen in question.

"His incarceration has nothing to do with him being a mutant and everything with him being a thief," replied Xavier sternly.

"Are you so sure Charles?" queried Storm in a quiet voice pushing her blinding mane of white hair behind her.

"As much as one can be in these situations…yes I am."

Storm and Jean exchanged anxious glances, doubt not mislaid, "Is there anything else I should know?" Ororo asked regaining her composure. 

"His most prominent feature, his eyes," said Scott

"What is wrong with his eyes?" asked Storm in concern her soft native accent creeping through.

As the professor spoke he accessed the security tapes of the driveway from his desktop computer and froze the screen capturing a moment where the wind had gusted catching a shot of the young thief's mutant eyes, "They are the most unusual I have ever seen.  With the exception of his pupils, the entire structure is black, it is quite distinctive," Xavier added unnecessarily.

"You couldn't tell until Wolverine sheared off a few inches of his bangs, he's probably used to hiding them," said Cyclops, "They're somewhat luminescent, almost reminds me of Nightcrawler's. They might share the same properties as well, maybe enhanced night vision?" Scott mused. Jean agreed with his assessment, having telepathically shared time with Cyclops during his stint as guard.

Storm nodded in comprehension, "Where did you say he was from?" 

"We do not know, nor do we know his name," Xavier commented frustrated, "We know very little about him just that his father was recently murdered and he was raised to be an extremely skilled thief, one that is apparently in great demand.  I wish to develop his powers in a secure manner here at the school, perhaps use his skills for the betterment of all mutants," he admitted "but it will be very difficult if he refuses to even speak with us."

"He was caught because he was trying to save his father's life, don't you think he'd like to be apart of the funeral somehow?" asked Jean gathering Scott's hand as she spoke.

"What would you have me do Jean?" Xavier asked perturbed tilting his head, "We have no idea who he is, let alone who his father is. Besides which I very much doubt that it would be a safe outing for the child. He attempted an escape just last night; I wouldn't trust him outside of the Institute not to slip away. Losing him might make it harder to convince Fury to let him stay," continued Charles dryly.

"What if we set up a video link, so he could at least watch it?" Cyclops asked fidgeting in his seat, readjusting scarlet glasses that he'd wear for the rest of his life. He too would of liked to seen his father's funeral but by the time he had woken up from his injuries Children's Services had placed him in an orphanage and his family's funerals had been long over.

"Again," sighed the Professor running a weary hand past his brow "is the problem of identity.  This child has intense mental barriers that I am not certain I could cross, not even his surface thoughts are visible."

A computerized ping sounded and Xavier straightened expectantly, "Perhaps now we will get the information we require," he muttered.

"What?" questioned Cyclops confusedly.  As Xavier scrolled down the page he answered with a question of his own,

"You don't think Logan spends all his time in bars do you?"  Xavier asked clicking on the attachment.  He looked up with a tight smile reading off the slim contents of the e-mail, "It seems we finally have a name for our thief..."  

Thank you guys bunches for reviewing!!

Acadian Angel, brazos, brattax23, Bronny, Calsun, Carla, Dark Elf, Elanor, Equinox, Girlonthem00n,  Ishandahalf, Jo the Phoenix, Kismet Noelani, Kizmet, LadyLyte, LotusPen, Nari, Neurotic Temptress, out-foxed, Rogue Elf, Rupeshwari, Shinigami-chan, wolfclan_88


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men or Shield, any related subjects belong to Marvel.  **

NEW ORLEANS

"Henri LeBeau, are you plannin' t' do somet'in 'bout dis?" stormed an irate Jamaican woman.

"Do sometin' bout what Mattie?" growled Henri gesturing to a reams of papers layering the desk, "If y' haven't noticed takin' over as Guild leader ain' exactly easy, especially wit de Assassins licking deir chops, waitin' for de first sign o' weakness. Didn' t'ink dere would be dis much contract work," he muttered shifting another set of folders attention clearly on other matters.  The Guilds never closed down, regardless of circumstances.

"Y' brother Henri, what y' plan t' do 'bout him?" Tante Mattie asked foot tapping the polished floor boards of Jean Luc's former study. "Y' know he neva made it out of dat alley. Der's reports Remy got carted 'way by Shield, now dey don't know where he be," she finished impatiently worry evident in her voice. 

"I've heard," he answered mildly. "Relax Mattie, I know where he's at," Henri replied continuing to scrawl on the forms before him. The Guild's healer stared at him with open irritation,

"An' just where is he?"

"He's at a school f' mutants up in New York." 

"Y' planning on leavin' him dere?" she asked sarcastically, undeterred by his show of aloofness.

"Mebbe," he answered simply.

"Y' can' leave Gambit dere, Guild don't abandon dere own Henri, y' should know betta," she challenged.

"If he were true Guild dey shoulda neva been able t' catch him."

"So y' leavin' em dere as punishment?" Mattie asked incredulously brown eyes wide awaiting her answer.  Henri continued to peruse the documents before adding offhandedly,

"Maybe dats where Remy should be." 

"What y' talkin' bout…?" questioned the aging healer wrinkling her brow.

A snarl and Henri LeBeau finally looked up, hazel brown eyes meeting angrily the cautious gaze of Tante Mattie. "I don' want him 'round me right now Mattie," he stated deliberately.  Seeing the healer wanted more of an explanation he went on, " Y' know Remy's powers as well as anybody, y' helped em out wit some of dem…"

At Tante Mattie's cautious nod of agreement Henri LeBeau continued indifference wavering, "Remy's supposed t' be able t' sense everything around em, non?  Den why didn't he see dose bullets neh? He was right dere, an' he didn' get a scratch," Henri added voice rising, "Why didn't he save Jean Luc?"

"Y' ain't blamin' Remy foh y' father's death!" interrupted Mattie a shocked expression on her face.  She strode closer to the seated figure the beads around her neck clacking noisily against her shirtfront. "Dat's not what y'r pere woulda wanted an' y' know it! He loved dat chile more den anytin'," she paused assessing the vengeful man before her.  "Is dat why y'r so quick to abandon him? Y' think y' father loved Remy more den y'?  Don' punish Remy cuz y'r actin' like a fool! Jean Luc loved both of y'.  Dat man lived f' his family."

"I don' have t' explain m'self t' you," he spat. Jean Luc lived f' his family, oui, dat true.  But he lived f' de Guilds too. Either way doesn' matta now, he's gone, an' I be in charge of de Guilds."

"If y' leave dat chile 'lone I will go after him m'self."

"Y' can't pretend t' be neutral betwixt de two Guilds anymore Mattie, y' spent too much time on de t'ieves side o' t'ings.   Y' a part of de T'ieves Guild as much as any otha' t'ief here.  Y' will follow m' orders and stay 'way from Remy." 

"Y' shouldn't do dis Henri. What bout de rest of Remy's friends dey won' stand f' dis."

"I'll do whateva I damn well please Mattie, an' none of Remy's friends are in a position t' question de Guild Master.  Y' dismissed." Another glare was exchanged both unflinching in their positions.

"You will do sometin' bout dis Henri," Mattie stated matter of factly with a cold edge in her voice.  The Guild Master did outrank her, but there were some in the Guild held separate alliances to her and they both knew it.

Henri held her steady gaze before cocking his head to the side and letting out a rough chuckle, shoving the completed documents into a manila folder.  He held it upright in his right hand waving it slowly, "I was doin' sometin' ' bout it." The dark-skinned woman made a reach for it, but Henri smoothly pulled it back. "Sorry Mattie, y'll find out wit everyone else," the new Guild Master replied a chilling expression on his face.  Rocking back in the black leather chair, Henri listened to the fading steps of the healer, hand clutching the manila envelope tightly. 

Back in the cafeteria at the Xavier Institute Remy glanced up at the crowd he had gathered around him, both natural and unnatural in the making.  The earlier incident with Logan had gained him a few bruises and several intersecting sets of parallel cuts tracing over his well developed abdomen.  He wasn't sure what Wolverine was made of, but his hand still stung from the punch to the temple.

Given the night, and the scant moments in the shower, Remy had been able to clear his mind of the quicksand that had swamped his thoughts.  He was able to shut away the corner of his mind that had continuously replayed Jean Luc's death during any lapse in attention.  With that burden he wouldn't of been able to paste on the charming grin he now wore.  

Capture and subsequent botched escape attempt had convinced the lithe teen it was time to gamble.  Waiting for Shield's inevitable return held no appeal, and he knew both by custom and necessity the funeral would be held only a few days after his death.  The chances were low, but with the best possible circumstances he might yet make the funeral, something that still weighed heavily on his mind, he wanted to say goodbye.

His gamble was his charm, the ace in the hole that not even the inhibitor collar hung around his neck could deprive him of.  Using his charm never felt like his charging powers.  The charge had to be drawn out from the environment, and he had to expend energy to ignite it.  His charm was completely different.  Charming felt more natural, just a release like exhaling or relaxing a fist.  That was the inherent problem, it became too relaxing, almost as if he charmed himself as well. 

Ignoring the possible mishaps and keeping a wary crimson eye on Logan the t'ief relaxed slowly letting his charm wash across the room, small tendrils weeding their way through the clusters of students.  Subtle at first he gradually strengthened the meandering waves, watching the effects.  Students caught in the ripples became more outgoing, there was more laughter and more casual contact between friends. Smiling easily the affected students moved languidly unknowingly gravitating towards the source of the waves.

One youth who'd been snared by the charm had a deck of cards and gathering a crowd became less about mutant powers and more about performance.  Remy ceased projecting, letting the ambient charm in the atmosphere percolate. An expert in distraction, the Cajun's dexterous fingers led the cards in astounding arcs.  An empty smile was firmly entrenched for his audience as the thief's deft mind continued its machinations.  

Wolverine uneasily resettled against the wall unable to definitely pinpoint his source of discomfort. Every time he attempted to focus on it, his tension would melt away, only to build back up again.  He was both drawn and repelled to the seated thief entertaining the students with a deck of cards he obviously had a lot of practice with. 

Logan wasn't sure what was behind the kid's sudden change in attitude but was certain it was disgenuine, people couldn't flip that fast.  New students continued to trickle in and the sheet of students ringing the thief grew thicker. Logan straightened when he momentarily lost sight of the red-headed thief.  Tilting his head he saw flashes of cards and he relaxed the kid hadn't disappeared.  Logan chastised himself for his paranoia, a trait Storm often accused him of.

Wolverine stiffened a sudden change in the atmosphere drawing his attention and he glanced sharply at the students.  He felt disoriented as if the room had been depressurized though visually nothing seemed out of place. He could even make out the auburn haired youth dealing cards amongst the throng of students.  

His instincts still screamed at him, and Logan knew enough not to ignore them.  Stalking forward muscling his way through the ranks, he roughly pushed aside those who hadn't the intelligence to move out of the way of an irate Wolverine.  Making his way to the middle of the crowd Logan had to swallow the urge to howl in frustration.  The kid he was supposed to be watching was gone; in his place was another red-headed boy Logan knew only vaguely. Between jobs for Xavier and his own bouts of outdoor seeking Wolverine wasn't around enough to know all the students by name.

"Hey Mr. Logan, did you want to see the card trick the new guy showed me?" the red head asked innocently.  Logan gnashed his teeth, "Stay here!" he barked out, running to alert the professor.

"Gambit?" repeated Cyclops slowly, leaning over to get a good look at the screen, "That's unusual."

"An operating name to be sure," spoke the Professor eyebrows lifting "I…" he trailed off frowning and jerked his head intently focusing on the door.  The gathered X-men waited tersely knowing what particular action didn't usually herald good news, a few seconds later Logan burst through the door confirming their suspisions. 

"The kid high tailed it, we gotta move!"

Storm and Cyclops looked flustered for a moment, "Gambit's gone?" asked Jean.

"Aw, hell," said Wolverine tightening his grip on the door handle, "The kid's Gambit? We have ta catch him before anyone gets wind.  Damn, I'm surprised we kept him this long," he growled.

"Explain," the professor demanded sharply, ice blue eyes narrowing, no doubt already trying to reach the teen telepathically.

"He's not from just any Guild, he's from the New Orleans Guild," he said stressing his words. "They're known for being very protective, be glad Fury kept this low profile or they'd be knocking down the door to get 'em back. Hell, I've heard of Gambit he's got a rep as the Guild's golden boy," Logan finished hurriedly.

Cyclops recovered from the double load of disconcerting news to shout out, "Logan how the hell did you lose him?  You were supposed to be watching him!" Scott accused.

"Lay off One-Eye, I think the kid's still got his powers, he did something to that room!"

"Logan, what are you talking about?" demanded Storm.

"Enough!" spoke Xavier slicing his hand through the air, "You must retrieve him before he leaves the estate. This Guild could be lying in wait for him, or anyone else who might be interested in a runaway thief.  He could be in danger.  I will continue my search for him with Cerebro though I doubt it will do much good.  I trust you to bring him back before anyone knows he has gone missing."

Cyclops and Wolverine glared obstinately at each other before Scott broke the silence, "Alright lets go, we don't have much time," he commented harshly, the group exiting the office quickly. Xavier wheeled down to the lower levels to access Cerebro while the rest of the X-men were briefed by Scott.

 "We can leave the kids in the cafeteria, he'll want to move fast, and he not stupid enough to take a hostage.  No time for uniforms, we're going in civs. Wolverine, Jean can you track him?" Scott questioned slipping effortlessly into the role of leader, doubts for their actions left for another time.

"Sorry Scott, I told you before I can't get a lock on him, if the professor can't read him I don't have a chance," said Jean disappointedly.

"I can try to pick up his scent but with all the kids running around it's gonna be hard." Logan admitted, "He was sitting with a whole group of them, he mixed up his scent with theirs pretty good." 

"Alright" snapped Cyclops making his decision, "Logan you and Storm check for Gambit outside. His scent should be easier to pick up, Storm your powers will be more effective outdoors as well. Jean and I are going to scour the house, he may be hiding here hoping to escape if we all run outside."

The group nodded at his assignments and he and Jean ripped through the house shouldering open doors and running through the levels searching for the teen.  Jean's telekinesis undoubtedly lending a significant hand.  Out the patio door Storm rose into the sky, wind obeying her effortlessly as Logan ran beneath her.  They had circled half the estate before Logan signaled he had found a scent.  

"I think it's him, I'm following it," he said taking off again at a jog. He shot a quick irritated look to the elegant wind rider, "Storm get down here you're giving away our position!"  he warned.

"So is your shouting," Storm retorted as she eased her winds descending to the ground. Firmly tracing the scent Wolverine was able to move quicker, Storm trailing behind. The scent moved farther away from the manicured expanse of the lawns and into the extensive woods bordering the estate.

"There are no footprints," stated Storm scanning the leaf strewn ground for disturbances.

"I know Storm," Wolverine replied shortly intent on tracking, "Something that obvious woulda made things a little easier but I'm just gonna have to go with scents fer now." 

Raised her palms above her head in supplication, Storm's pale blue eyes whited over as thunder cracked above them.  Jagged forks of lightening lit up the rapidly darkening sky as chilling rain began to pour all around them, never touching the two grounded X-men.  Wind tossed fitfully, tugging at their clothes and Logan whirled away from his trail frustrated, "Storm!" he shouted voice straining over the thrashing wind, "What the hell are ya doing! Knock it off!"

Strands of icy white hair whipping behind her, Storm looked at the shorter man with eerie pupiless eyes.  A few moments passed and Logan wondered whether she had been able to hear him over the noise of the sudden squall.  She lowered her arms giving a small frown and the storm slowly began lessening its severity, dissipated into heavy clouds hanging over the formerly cloudless sky.  

"You said it would be easier to go on tracks," Ororo replied smoothly, "now that the ground is damp he will surely leave tracks for us to follow."

"Yeah Storm, but I was on the trail already," Logan snarled, "His scent probably disappeared in that monsoon you whipped up. Hell Storm, any tracks he mighta made are probably washed away now." 

"Sorry," Storm replied huskily and they both returned to the hunt with even fewer leads to follow.

Remy LeBeau ran swiftly through the dense forest lining the Xavier estate, lean form dodging tree branches and darting around rock cropping.  He knew while appealing, hot-wiring a car wouldn't have been a safe option, far too easy to track.  For similar reasons he had declined immediately heading for the road he was sure the long drive must lead to. The open expanse of gravel would make certain he posed an easy target. The afternoon sun blaring down unbearably had cemented his decision and he had promptly headed for the comfort of the partially shaded woods.

While more familiar with back alley's and rowdy streets, the teen had also grown up fairly near to a swamp so the thick timber wasn't completely alien.  It still made him edgy, surround him with buildings and he'd disappear swiftly enough to cement your belief in the supernatural.  Woodland areas with trigs lying liberally underfoot that might snap at any moment were another arena of expertise that he wasn't on the best of terms with. But one ability that he prided himself on was his ability to adapt.

Spry tree limbs slapped at his face and arms, and he was grateful at once that he'd chosen a long sleeve shirt to prevent the scratches that were already appearing faintly across his tanned complexion. Thunder boomed in the distance, rain appearing seemingly out of nowhere soaking the surprised teen. Not enjoying the process of being drenched the crimson eyed thief was at least grateful for the disappearance of the sun. For even in the partial shade the glimpses of light stabbing through the trees had been a painfully bright to his night sensitive eyes.  But between the thick cloud cover and the rain turning the ground to a familiar swampy texture the young thief knew this was the best combination he was bound to get.  Vowing to make the most of it he renewed his slackening speed, careful to keep his steps light.

Cyclops, Xavier's lackey had spoken of security measures that Gambit had yet to see, but perhaps they were ignorant of his departure.  The man hadn't made any mention of guard dogs in his list but the teen had been caught unaware before. Thankfully the downpour of rain had let up, the sudden temperature change producing a thin layer of fog dispersed throughout the woods.  Finding a particularly marshy hollow the red-headed teen eased himself in it, mud both disguising his scent and turning the highly visible white shirt into one of light brown. He stood up carefully, taking a handful of leaves to sprinkle over the spot attempting to conceal his presence.

Satisfied the area looked as natural as possible the muddied teen stepped out of the depression and began running once more, intending to leap off a downed tree.  The arctic chill of a telepath whipping past startled him and the normally graceful thief lost his balance slipping on the moss covered trunk. 

His upper body laid out and surprise more than anything caused him to pause before wrenching his tall lightly muscled form to land in a more appropriate manner. The height of his fall was slight, preventing sufficient time to arrange a landing causing him to hit the ground roughly.  The red-eyed teen bit his lip sharply avoiding the pain filled shout that banged against his teeth.  Settling for a short hiss the teen began to get up again before dropping again laying behind the treacherous log, as footsteps echoed in the forest.

"Hold up Storm, something isn't right," said Wolverine coming to an abrupt stop dark blue eyes searching the mist shrouded forest.

"What is it Logan," questioned Storm glancing about a cautious expression on her face, her hand on the bark of an oak tree.

"Something's out of place here I just haven't figured it out yet. I think I'm getting the scent but I'm not sure…" he said turning around slowly.  Storm entered the feral's field of vision just in time to see her let out a violent sneeze that had the undesirable consequence of releasing a lightening bolt not twenty yards away.

"Dang it Storm, watch where you're throwing those things," he shouted muttering selective curses under his breath. "This whole place reeks of ozone.  Let's go back to where I had that snatch of scent maybe I can pick it up again," Wolverine said gruffly already doubting his words.

Remy watched on as the pair hiked away from the section of the forest he had been concealed in.  He would have sworn that the gorgeous white-haired woman had been staring at the area of mud that he'd tumbled in.  But maybe she hadn't been looking at the right angle, either way it had been left a smoking crater by the sudden strike of lightening. Believing his abrupt change in luck couldn't possibly hold out any longer the thief slinked off heading a direction he hoped would lead him back toward the road.

Thanks for the reviews!!

Acadian Angel, brazos, brattax23, Bronny, Calsun, Carla, Dark Elf, Elanor, Equinox, Girlonthem00n,  Ishandahalf, Jebrylla, Jo the Phoenix, Kismet Noelani, Kizmet, Ladine, LadyLyte, LotusPen, Nari, Neurotic Temptress, out-foxed, Robin, Rogue Elf, Rupeshwari, Sailor Wade, Silent, Shinigami-chan, wolfclan_88


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men or Shield, any related subjects belongs to Marvel.  **

A shadowed figure crouched near the tree line squinting against the fading light.  A tentative twitch of sculpted lips served as wearily congratulation. The woods bordering the Xavier Institute had been far more extensive than the young thief had at first assumed.  And after several hours of traipsing through the timber the small ranger station was an unusually welcome sight.   The few rows of vehicles parked in the lot were the actual reason for his small victory. He had decided early on hitch-hiking wouldn't be a viable option, that source of transportation in and of itself wasn't particularly safe, but for a mutant with black and red eyes it was taking chances that even the vaunted thief wasn't willing to try.  

If life were simple, Remy considered mouth down turned slinking from his place of concealment onto the lot, he could go into the station, use the phone and wait for the nearest Guild member to arrive.  Unfortunately he well knew it wasn't. That particular thought swirled bitterly almost seeming to bite at the inside of his skull. If life were simple he wouldn't have been abandoned as a child, Jean Luc wouldn't be dead, and he could place a menial phone call without worrying that the mutants from the Institute would be able to find him by canvassing his description in the area.

Alighting next to a dusty silver Camero the young thief casually tugged on the door handle, surprised when it gave easily.  It wasn't even locked, though if it had been it wouldn't have garnered the vehicle any protection from the accomplished thief.  Drawing himself smoothly into the vehicle habitually scanning for on-lookers he rapidly spliced wires, satisfied when the engine rumbled softly after a few seconds of manipulation. 

Striving for a nonchalant appearance the auburn haired teen quickly snagged a pair of shades from the visor, dark enough to hide the faint crimson aura his burning orbs produced. The covering fog had disappeared within an hour of its appearance and Remy blew a sweat soaked strand of hair out of his face relieved the sun's brightness was diminished.  Another auburn lock slipped from its holder and the irritated Cajun teen jerked it back redoing the tie, aware it would return shortly.

The grounds had to be a recreation center of some sort, if it had been just a station the number of cars would have been much smaller.  Hoping whoever the cars belonged would be take a few hours to notice his acquisition, he slowly backed the silver car out of its space.  Rotating the wheel he headed toward the first asphalt road he'd seen in awhile, assuming it to be a far better choice than the dirt one curving out behind it.  Glancing into the rearview mirror all he saw was the lush green thicket of trees, a sight he beginning to despise. The drive was long and had numerous curves attempting for scenic no doubt, something that in his present state he deemed worthless.  Eventually the road joined an under-populated highway that the sign posted as twenty-two, but unfamiliar with the region it gave him no particular insight.  

Putting the car into park he grimaced rooting through the glove compartment searching for a map.  He shut it abruptly in disgust, turning up a single roll of peppermint lifesavers, fluorescent orange pen, and battered insurance forms.  Given the option the teen was stocked with redundant systems, apparently the owner of this car didn't share his belief in preparing for contingencies.  His father had taught him to always be prepared, taking the lesson to heart there were few situations in which he couldn't get himself out of.  Advanced thieving skills were to obscure him from view, but if he had to fight he was well taught in hand to hand combat.  He backed that knowledge with his kinetic powers, bo staff and several pair of throwing knives.

But here and now, he had none of it at his disposal, the thought causing him to yank at the continually blinking collar in frustration. One simple band of metal and it cut away such an integral part of his person.  Of course, other simple objects, like a handful of metal casings had the power to wrest his father away. Shifting back into drive the fatigued teen randomly picked a direction, guiding the Camero west.

Rapidly accelerating down the stretch of road, the young thief watched the trees flash by at quicker rate than the previous hours, deference to his newly acquired mode of travel.  His thoughts were far from the road before him however already envisioning his return home. A stab of homesickness lanced through him, bringing up flickering images of his family and friends, Jean Luc's calm visage dominating.

Absentmindedly the Cajun teen ran a hand down his right leg wincing at the lines of pain accompanying the gesture.  His not so graceful spill in the woods had resulted in what he refused to believe was more than a few pulled muscles.  The red eyed thief had fought with worse, but he'd have to be more aware of his leg now that it was weaker it'd become a liability.

In the burgundy and gold trimmed foyer Professor Charles Xavier waited impatiently for his team to report back.  He continually snuck glances at the doorway while speaking with one of his youngest charges about the upcoming semester. The front door finally creaked open and Charles quickly dismissed the student to meet what he thought of as his eldest students. His mouth quirked regrettably before he spoke, "You have not found him," he said needlessly.  There was an agreement of nods, Scott the only one to look as if he'd been pursuing their elusive teen.  His ruby shirt was torn, a faint sweat line appearing down the center, a collection of burrs on his sneakers.  Wolverine looked unchanged, the woods a second home, Storm had the elements to cool her, and Jean telekinesis to keep the underbrush at bay, it was no wonder the group appeared largely unaffected.

"I've called off the search Professor. It's been several hours, if we were going to find him we would have by now," explained Cyclops disappointedly.  "Jean and I began our search indoors and when we realized Gambit wasn't in the mansion joined Logan and Storm.  By the time we arrived the trail was already cold. We continued, but haven't found a trace of him."

The laser vision of Xavier's zeroed in on the team that had begun covering the grounds, meeting the cool gaze of Ororo and the aggravated features of Wolverine.  "Well?" he prompted eyebrows quirking.

"I coulda got 'em," muttered Wolverine, leaning against the wide set of stairs, "I had his scent, it was recent enough.  But somebody interfered," he added his steely blue searching out the wind rider.

Ororo Munroe blinked regally, her gaze sliding unconcerned to the shorter feral man, "I was merely trying to assist you Logan, it is not my fault if you cannot track someone properly."

"You just wait a minute here Miss--"

"Logan!" shouted Jean quickly stepping between her two friends from her position beside Cyclops.  "Name-calling won't solve anything," she said compellingly.  Some days she was shocked that they could function as a combat team let alone be in charge of a group of young mutant's lives.  Waiting until she was sure Wolverine had wound down the telekinetic turned back to the professor expectantly.

"I was unable to locate him through Cerebro," Xavier said expelling a loud breath of air, "which is why I had hoped you would be more successful," he added a troubled expression etched on his face.

"So what now?" ventured Jean her cabernet locks slipping over her shoulder as she threaded her arm through Scott's.

"Shield?" posed Cyclops wearing a frown that clearly stated the idea wasn't favored.

"I doubt they would have any better luck than we have had," stated Storm shrugging her shoulders minutely.

"Regardless Gambit was entrusted to our care, we must alert Fury and his people to his disappearance, though I have a feeling it will not be a pleasant conversation," the professor replied stately. He wheeled away to place his call, now wishing he had lent more weight to Shield's warnings.  It just hadn't seemed possible that the lanky teenager simmering with rage could have the mental or physical ability to elude his X-men.  The eldest students left behind dispersed quickly, avoiding each other after a day spent hunting down a mutant teen whose only desire was to return home.

Drumming slender fingers against the steering wheel, chewing his bottom lip agitatedly, Gambit felt his muscles lose some of their tension as he passed the last sign, Airport 8 mi.  The road remained within a relatively wooden area, protected from steep embankments on either side by a short metal guard.  Given that, the airport was probably rather small but he'd take whatever flight that could take him the closest to New Orleans. Training dictated he should be lying low before returning home, a move his pursuers would immediately suspect.  But his heart twisted painfully every time he thought of being away from home, he couldn't bear to wait any longer.

Anxious at the prospect of returning home, the thief sped up again, barely touching eighty.  When three men suddenly appeared on the road before him, the thief had to spin the wheel violently to avoid running them down. Brakes squealed in protest, throwing up clouds of smoke as the car performed a pulse-jumping circuit of spins. 

With a loud crunch of smashing metal and crumpling plastic the Camero ended up with it's backend against the road's left rail, engine clicking unhealthily.  The thief took a moment to rouse, he hadn't worn his seatbelt and ended up smacking his head against the side window.  He touched his temple cautiously surprised at the absence of blood.  Taking a few deep breaths the auburn haired thief got out of the car slowly, raising his eyes skyward protected by the borrowed shades.   Hovering near silently were the small gray personal-carriers of Shield. 

Baring his teeth in anger, Remy's eyes flattened dangerously behind the concealing shades, how had they found him?  He was sure he'd lost the mismatched pair of mutants long ago. One dark-skinned officer remained aloft on his vehicle, content to keep the other carriers steady, intelligent enough not to land offering the able-bodied thief a more rapid getaway vehicle.

Figuring the sky-borne guard would stay out of the immediate fray, the auburn tressed teen refocused his attention on the officers that had dropped down spying them out of the rapidly clearing smoke.  They stood silently in a straight line, seemingly willing to wait for his attention.  A set of crimson eyes flared brightly recognizing one of the men as the former muscled-bound guard that had brought him to the Institute.  

"Hey kid," called an officer with closely shorn blonde hair, "Where'd you figure you were going?" he asked stifling a snicker.  No response was given, though the teen's hand twitched unconsciously in remembrance of the bo that belonged in it's grip.

"Personally," the familiar guard spoke, "I think it works out better this way.  Win, win, you know?  Xavier's been after Fury to let you stay on a permanent basis since we brought you in.  I think this little incident will prove the Institute isn't a secure facility.  I guess you'll just have to spend some quality time at the Vault."  

The teen fought his instinctive snarl down, frustration mounting at being discovered once more.  In his years of thieving he'd only been caught once, and that was by Jean Luc.  In the two days following his father's death, it had happened twice.  But if Shield thought he'd lie down and accept their judgment complacently they were severely mistaken.  

Reviewing several plans of attack the teen hesitated before implementing them, eyeing the unfamiliar gadgets two of the guards held.  The soldier's spokesman followed his gaze, "You don't honestly think that Shield would go through all the headache of making a Guild member disappear and not keep him under surveillance?  Government likes to keep track of their_ possessions…there's a locater beacon in your collar genius," he added with a sneer.  _

The other blue-uniformed officer opposite the young thief spoke, expression exasperated under his mop of brown hair, "Come on kid, you're made.  You know it, I know it. Why don't we all just save each other the hassle and you come in quietly."

Shield representatives contained their shock with the disheveled teen actually came forward, eyes lowered and hands held away from his body. The officer who had made the plea approached warily handcuffs in plain sight.  There was no warning to the attack, simply a forlorn teen in scuffed jeans one moment and a barely recognizable blur of movement the next as the thief launched a compact roundhouse clipping the officer on the side of the head.  This attack much more effective than it had been on Logan, guard reeling back nearly toppling before he recovered.

The teen kept a steady countenance he didn't feel, watching the guards reevaluated him. The thief despaired at the thought of another delay but reveled in the opportunity to deal out punishment to those who'd been instrumental to his initial capture.  Tilting his tilted his jaw pugnaciously in the universal 'come here and get it' gesture, the ragged teen awaited their advance. A day of dragging through the timber had left him with sore muscles and a short temper Remy was more than willing to share with Shield. The knowledge that they had been following him during his attempts at subterfuge only increased his level of irritation. 

Determination banked higher the teen met the men coolly as they assumed a three point formation.  The familiar muscle-bound guard stood just on his left, the brunette officer on his right and the sandy haired officer directly opposite. Aware Fury and the rumored other governmental agencies wanted the teenaged thief unharmed they hadn't brought their blasters, though the temptation was strong.  Bravado aside, they'd been handed a thick file on supposed Guild activities and weren't looking forward to facing against one of their members hand to hand.

The three men approached in a coordinated rush, Remy allowed his former jailer to grab his shoulder in a bruising grip, using the opportunity to jab his left knee into the man's solar plexus, stealing his wind.   Rotating swiftly the teen landed a vicious hook to the man's jaw.  Not to be pushed aside so easily the heavy set officer went for another grab but the teen somersaulted neatly. He was on the ground but a moment before lashing out with a fluid side kick taking the man to the ground.  

Catching a flicker of movement in the corner of a crimson hued eye the teen cursed the loss of his kinetic sense, almost missing the brown haired officer sneaking up behind him.  Guard too close to the thief's unprotected back the red head hooked his left leg out behind him for an effective leg sweep. Startled the officer hadn't been able to counter, as he dropped a solid punch from the thief sunk into his adam's apple. 

Leaving the man gagging loudly on the middle of the road the thief moved on to his next target.  This man kept his distance not wanting to make the same mistake as his partners and sidle up too close to the teen.  The pair exchanged blows, the blonde guard only marginally taller he had a longer reach forcing the teen to try to break through his defenses rather than leave himself open for a dizzying attack by the mutant thief.

Engrossed in the more difficult target the teen was taken unaware his former jailer recovered grabbing a fistful of the red hair yanking him away from the blonde guard.  Pulling the thief closer to his body was a mistake the officer was going to relive as the teen let himself slam into the guard throwing him off balance.   Grabbing the officer's ring finger the mutant thief yanked it backwards knowing it would loosen the painful grip in his hair.  Before the snarling guard could regain his hold the teen seized the officer's left hand running through a hip throw heaving the falling form on top of the last guard he had left hacking. Colliding on the asphalt the pair sprawled groaning and didn't rise for retribution. 

The blonde guard realizing he was alone changed tactics advancing suddenly attempting to snare the youth's hand.  The lithe form leapt gracefully overhead twisting acrobatically. Stunned at the height of the jump the guard tilted his head tracking it, spinning around he was met with a harsh kick to his gut. As the Shield officer curled instinctively the teen followed up with a forceful elbow strike to the back of the neck. Aim true he hit a nerve cluster, the man collapsing unceremoniously.  

Surveying the damage from the attack, Remy had a moment to feel his nerves jangle in warning before he was brought down with a brutal kick to the knee. He rolled, coming up from the blow in a half crouch.  The fourth guard had arrived.  While all Shield officers were heavily trained, the last guard was the only one who'd had experience against a Guild member.  That attribute unaccountably rare, they had left the dark-skinned guard as a reserve.  A reserve which was quickly activated after the nearly effortless dispatch of the three member force.

Thief and officer, escapee and jailer they came together at the railing with a series of lightening blows and flashing kicks, each member a blur finding equal opponents. From his former height advantage the seasoned officer had seen the teen imperceptibly favoring his left leg and was exploiting it for all it was worth making sure his attacks either centered on that leg or forced the teen to hold his weight there for attacks.

Only recently joining the fray the guard was relatively fresh, while sweat was beading on the teen's dirt streaked brow.  That fact also worked against him, the thief had been able to settle into the battle rhythm while the guard was still warming up. Blocking a centimeter out of form the guard cursed roughly when a few body shots sailed through.  Recognizing the sequence and not giving the teen time to press the advantage the seasoned officer feinted a high left punch, immediately chopping low with the other hand.  

The red haired teen grunted sourly as his muscled abdomen absorbed the hit, receiving a taste of what he'd been dealing out. Realizing the teen's center of gravity would be off the dark skinned guard tackled him.  The extra weight on the narrow frame buckled the thief's abused leg and their combined momentum drove them over the low railing. Toppling down the embankment they grappled savagely neither releasing their hold nor pausing as repeated impacts ripped away sunglasses revealing glittering red on black eyes. 

A few desperately quick seconds of maneuvering and Remy was on the top when the pair came to an abrupt halt against a tree trunk. Each slammed into the unforgiving surface roughly but the teen had more to lose and refused to slow.  Grasping the man's uniform collar the teen violently thrashed the form against the thick trunk of the tree until he moved no more arms falling limply at his sides.

Breathing heavily the crimson eyed teen gathered his feet under him, balancing his weight precariously. He noted tiredly that his fight had outlasted the sun.  Leaning his upper body against the tree he tried to keep his weight off his injured leg reaching down check the pulse of the fallen man.  Just as he made contact his back arched sharply, jerking him away, muscles spasming erratically he swiftly joined his opponent on the turf.  

Tremors streamed through the thief's taunt frame as he gasped for air.  He clawed at the inhibitor, a small part of his consciousness analyzing the shocks were originated from it. He tried regaining control over his body but it refused to respond.  The pain of his leg was forgotten in his present agony, the lithe form bowing repeatedly now only wishing to not bite through his tongue.  Lightening whips of pain lashed through him, robbing him of his senses, the usually fiery gaze dimming as the muscular guard approached.

The Shield officer watched the thief's body contorting but waiting a few precious seconds before depressing a hidden stud on the tracker turning off the secondary function of the inhibiting collar.  They had been advised not to use it on the teen something about disturbing his biokinetic anatomy, but after the last confrontation he didn't think they could recapture slender thief without it.  A brief verbal command and the officer's carrier approached their location.  Slinging both his fellow officer and the unconscious teen aboard, the carrier rose slowly vid screen crackling as it transmitted the image of a Shield dispatch officer,

"Have you got the thief?" the new officer questioned hurriedly, throwing a panicked glance to the displeased officials just behind, monitoring the feed.

"Yes Sir," the officer replied, moving out of range so the silent form of the red headed teen was visible, "Where do I drop him off?" 

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	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men or Shield, any related subjects belongs to Marvel.  **

Cyclops glared angrily across the room at the two Shield officers stationed there, the gesture lost beneath his shades.  He sat anxiously beside the toffee colored couch watching over Jean as she attended to the unconscious Gambit. 

The ruffled thief had kept himself well occupied since his abrupt departure, torn jeans and formerly white shirt covered in a mixture of stains ranging from mud and grass to blood.  A collection of scratches marred the young mutant's face in a pattern that Cyclops knew resulted from a fight rather than the teen's apparent flight through the woods. Concerned that the disheveled outfit hid further injuries Cyclops had called Jean to care for the thief as Shield appeared disinclined to do so. 

Scott had been about to condemn the officers for the condition of the bruised thief, but after accessing the two officers had decided to remain silent. Their motions were stiff sporting significant facial bruising, though the blondes leaned more towards road rash while the muscular guard had a large swelling on his jaw developing into a brilliant purple. Jean dropped a damp cloth into the small plastic bowl with a gentle slopping sound drawing Scott's attention from stoic officers. She waved her hand vaguely for another towel and Scott left for the kitchen to retrieve it.

Frowning delicately Jean blotted away the moisture on the thief's brow, debating whether or not to place a bandage.  Gambit had numerous scrapes visible through tears in his clothing but the wounds hadn't required more than simple disinfection. His lower lip had been split partially and she patiently wiped away blood and grime revealing a handsome visage that appeared years younger after the grit had been removed despite reddish bristle tracing his jaw. Impossibly long eyelashes accentuated the thief's striking features, emphasizing high cheekbones and a honeyed complexion.

Silky auburn locks obscured the mutant thief's face and Jean tucked them aside gently finding the welt adorning the teen's left temple.  The telekinetic had held ice there for twenty minutes before the swelling had lowered to her liking.  She ran her hand down sinewy appendages, green eyes sweeping the sleek tapered frame checking for injuries that she might have missed, noting when the teen shifted uncomfortably in his sleep.  Returning gentle pressure to his right leg the thief groaned inaudible to anymore more than a foot away.  Almost as if by its own accord her hand moved again, weaving loose fingers through the thief's auburn mane, impressed at its softness even after his obvious exertion.

Reentering the room Cyclops placed a comforting hand on Jean's shoulder and she jerked in surprise, yanking her hand away from the red haired teen, several strands coming with it.  She stumbled away from the prone form, mind clearing measurably as she increased the distance.

"Jean, sweetie what's wrong?" Scott asked gripping her elbow gently.  She turned into him lightly keeping her voice low so the agents couldn't overhear,

"I think Logan was right about him…there was something," she took a short steadying breath, "I don't know how to explain it.  But--I felt things I shouldn't have, he's young and he's been hurt…" she trailed off in confusion.

"Jean?" Cyclops asked more baffled than before.  Jean bit her lower lip gently and reverted to telepathy, keeping the conversation short so Shield would be less likely to notice their abrupt cessation of speech.

"_Scott, Gambit has some sort of mental power that's I've never seen before.  It's low enough on the psionic range that I didn't realize I was being affected until you interrupted_."

"_Are you sure Jean? Shield didn't say anything about psionic powers."_

_"I know, but I felt it Scott, an urge to stay with him, protect him, maybe something else…" _

She stepped out of Scott's embrace, slowly reentering the zone of influence that she could barely make out with her own powers.  Fear and curiosity battled observing the subtle nature in which the teen's power presented itself. Either it was very low in power, or it was so powerful to have developed a way to hide its very existence.

Scott contemplated Jean's revelations but concentrated on more corporal matters, concerned the thief was yet to waken.  He cast another glance to Shield but they remained resolute, refusing to give any more information other than their initial report.  They had apprehended Gambit and had received orders to return him to the Institute.  Poorly disguised derision clearly stated that they did not agree with their superior's orders.

Cyclops leaned over the young thief, "Gambit? Come on, wake up," he urged squeezing the teen's shoulder lightly when he failed to rouse. "You guys don't happen to carry smelling salts do you?" asked a doubtful Cyclops, encompassing both Jean and the Shield officers in his questioning.

"Special Ops, don't usually carry that around with us," came his answer from Shield, and a small shake of the head from Jean, not in the habit for bringing them along, a telepathic tap being far more effective, though currently useless against the thief's impressive mental blockades.  It chaffed the X-Men's leader that Shield had brought Gambit in, while the X-Men had failed.  Of course had Shield mentioned the tracking device beforehand it would have made the search for the wayward teen much easier.  Although from the bruises each side was displaying perhaps it would be better to let Shield handle it.  He thought the russet haired thief had defended himself admirably despite what Cyclops believed to be two to one odds. Somehow the guards hadn't mentioned that it had been four to one, and two of those men remained in the hospital, one with crushed vocal cords, and the other with severe head trauma that had lapsed into a short-term coma.

"Kitty?" spoke Cyclops raising his voice so it would carry out of the room. A muffled thud reached his ears, the spying student bumping her head against the door at the mention of her name.  She stole guiltily around the door she had been using as cover,

"Um, yes Mr. Summers?" she replied nervously fighting the effort to wring her hands.  

"Since you're here, why don't you go down to the lab and pick me up some smelling salts, east wall, left cabinet, third drawer down."

"Oh yeah, sure Mr. Summers," she replied hastily and phased out dropping through the floor hurriedly eager to escape a lecture.  Glances were exchanged amongst the two agents at her departure, someone with her abilities would be useful in covert work. 

"Don't get any ideas," Cyclops warned, "Kitty's a good kid, has family, she stable," he added pointedly.  The lead agent held up his hands dismissively, 

"Just considering for the future," he replied unabashedly. Kitty arrived shortly after floating upwards through the floorboards,

"Here you go Mr. Summers," said Kitty shyly depositing the vial into Cyclops' waiting hand.

"Thanks Kitty, but you might want to go tell Jubilee that we'll all have a discussion about eavesdropping tomorrow,"   Kitty deflated slightly, eye's darting between the lithe auburn haired figure sprawled on the couch, the Shield officers standing behind, and Scott's stern countenance.

"Of...of course Mr. Summers," she said nervously trekking out of the room.  Leaning back over the thief Cyclops swallowed a sigh, unstoppering the vial he waved it under the teen's nose.  It wasn't the most effective method certainly, but mutant's reactions to medication varied so widely trying a stimulant was out of the question.

A brief cough and sputter announced the thief's return to consciousness along with a blind lunge forward, rapidly swinging his legs down to the floor.  Rocking backwards Cyclops would have fallen prey to the attack if it hadn't bounced off Jean's hastily constructed telekinetic shield.  Only then did the teen's unusual eyes snap open, crimson pupils pulsating against their coal backdrop.

Gliding to his feet the lanky and tousled thief distanced himself so he no longer stood directly between his two enemies. If the young mutant was surprised at being back at the Institute he hid it well.

 "Gambit?" Scott tried again, but the penetrating gaze of the teen was directed solely at Shield.  Cyclops was slightly irked at being dismissed as a secondary threat, but he knew that particular belief would help build a relationship with the thief later on.

An involuntary twitch cramped the thief's neck jerking it sideways. Clenching his jaw the mutant teen straightened it painfully riding out the after-effects of the electrical shock he had received.  Cyclops unaware of the secondary function of the inhibitor drew a puzzled expression and vied for the teen's attention once more.

"Remy,"  a singular use of the his given name and the auburn-haired thief's head snapped to Cyclops' own, eyes blistering, body set with tension. Standing smoothly Cyclops kept his hands in the open moving slowly, the teen following his movements.

"Professor Xavier is having a conference concerning your presence here at the Institute.  You should probably attend," Cyclops said in a steady voice that suggested it wasn't compulsory.  The thief's glowing gaze swiveled between Shield and Cyclops for a moment, flicking over the unknown visage of Jean Grey expression carefully blank. Jean had a look of concentration in her features, but whatever she was attempting didn't resolve in any recognizable response from the teen and she relented.  Another twitch jolted the thief's right hand and he strode after the departing Cyclops, Shield trailing at a distance.

Holding the door open Cyclops let the red haired thief walk past him into Xavier's study.  Gambit maintained a studiously neutral expression as he accounted for the presence of Charles Xavier behind his embellished mahogany desk and Fury's position before it.  Scanning the room passing over numerous bookcases and walls lined with in plaques, jaw muscles slackened at the sight of the third individual.  Past the stone fireplace a man stood silhouetted against a large paned window, and the red-eyed teen felt his heart stutter at the familiar pose the man struck.

The slender form was wrapped in an ankle length bronze duster only just covering an unmistakable uniform of the New Orleans Guild Master.  Auburn hair was neatly pulled back by a leather tong, hands clasped precisely behind him.  A piece of ice made a slow passage through the young Cajun's chest, Jean Luc? 

Swiveling abruptly the figure came into full view, his trimmed mustache and hazel eyes meeting the desperate scarlet gaze.  It was Henri, his brother.  Blinking rapidly to shake away a childish illusion of finding his father alive the young thief stood his ground, unsure of Henri's presence. It was a shock to see him assume his father's colors so quickly, though as a Guild thief he understood the necessity of a quick succession.  

The elder Cajun strode forward, throwing an indecipherable glance to the others.  The men had obviously been conferring for some time, coffee cups littering the room.  That detail only serving to further disorient the young thief, confronting enemies outright wasn't Guild style.  Attempting to dispel the escalating tension in the room Xavier and Fury made a few curt gestures dismissing their respective underlings.  The door clicked softly signaling the departure of Scott and the two agents leaving four quiet figures behind.  

"Y' may speak," Henri finally said directing his comment to his younger brother, remaining standing as neither of the two thieves took the proffered chairs. A small measure of strain left the mutant thief's frame, glad to finally be able to dispel his induced silence.

"Henri pourquoi êtes-vous ici?" asked the thief, words pouring out rapidly.

"Y' English rusty mon frere?" questioned Henri imperially.  A few moments went by while Remy struggled to recomposed himself.  He was bilingual, being able to speak both with relative ease, but he was having more problems comprehending his brother's sudden appearance.

"Why y' here Henri?" the young auburn tressed thief repeated, voice hitting a low register from unuse though retaining a soft and melodious quality that would be soothing in any other situation.  With a cat's ease Henri padded forward until he stood within a several paces of his brother, immediately gaining his undivided attention. 

"We made a deal Remy," he stated in a level tone, nodding toward the two seated figures.  Crimson eyes swept across following the gesture before dismissing them once more worriedly focused on the unusually taunt form of his elder brother.

"What kind o' deal?" the red-headed youth asked suspiciously, unconsciously sideling further away from Xavier and Fury.  His brother wasn't acting normally but he knew his own behavior had been erratic following Jean Luc's death, Henri must be going through much of the same.

"Y' found y'self in an uncomfortable situation, and I had t' come up here and fix it."  The red-eyed gaze dipped momentarily aware his capture would leave a black mark on his Guild.  Henri continued chastising his younger brother, "Dis is sometin' de Guild won't be able t' get y' out of, y' have put y'rself in too deep. Too many people know 'bout y' now. So in de interests of all parties involved we made an agreement. Instead of de Vault like dey wanted de government has agreed t' let y' stay at dis Institute wit Xavier.  In return f' dat favor de Guild has promised no reprisals for interfering wit one of our members."

"An' why else would y' be so generous monsieur?" Gambit challenged contemptuously acknowledging Fury with an arrogant tilt of his head.

Colonel Fury met the rampantly fizzling orbs of the teen with enforced professional calm.  He didn't like the situation that had been arranged either, but between what the New Orleans Guild had offered, what the agencies had been screaming for, and what Xavier was pushing, they'd come up with the best possible solution. "The government has decided rather than have you spend your formative years in jail, to involve you with a work release program.  Your particular skill set will be utilized in concert with various governmental agencies reporting directly to Shield as I've been appointed to organize requests."

"Y' crazy if y' t'ink I'm gonna work f' y'," the younger Cajun balked certain his brother nor the Guilds would stand for that arrangement.

"I was a part of dis decision, so dat makes it a Guild assignment as well," interjected Henri overriding the younger thief's protests.  "Y' will follow Fury as y' would follow a Guild Master.  If y' don't listen t' his orders den I will see dat as directly disobeying Guild laws.  An' neither of us wants dat t' happen vrai?" he finished raising an eyebrow knowingly.

The mutant teens lips twisted in a grimace, "Fine den Henri, but if dey only need me f' jobs I don' have t' stay here!" he insisted.

"Actually y' do," Henri corrected, "when Jean Luc died most everytin' went t' either de Guild or me, including y'r legal guardianship." Pulling a thin manila envelope from his duster he tossed it uncaringly onto Xavier's desk.  Three sets of eyes followed the arc and descent of the unmarked folder, though Henri's gaze never left the visage of his younger brother, hazel eyes speculative, "Dose be y' adoption papers Remy, Xavier already signed dem over.  Meet y' new poppa," he added with an arch of his eyebrows.

The bewildered thief tore his gaze from the envelope, momentarily locking eyes with the electric blue of Xavier's before facing his brother once more. Henri wasn't pretending to go along with them, he was actually planning on leaving him with them. A shiver ran through the younger thief, why would his brother do this to him?  Mind lurching sickeningly the teen latched onto a chair back as if it were the only thing keeping him from collapsing.   All he could manage to stagger out was an incredulous, "Why Henri?"  

"Y' should consider y'self lucky Remy.  If anyone else other dan Jean Luc's own son had let him die, dey would have lost deir life in return.  Dis ain't dat bad o' a deal Remy," Henri said with a shallow shrug. "My orders til' you hear otherwise is t' work f' Shield, least y' only have t' live here til your eighteen," he taunted.  The new Guild Master cast a sly glance at his adoptive brother as he moved about the room, "Perhaps y' make good time of what y' have here," he replied offhandedly as his brother reeled. 

"I have control of m' powers," Remy defended hastily after a beat of silence, picking up on the obvious allusion.

"Really den?  Den why did y' let pere get gunned down?  And why didn' y' use y'r powers t' get outta de ally when de po'lice came?" Henri questioned relentlessly expression hard and unforgiving.

"I was trying t' save 'em!" the teen forced out of a seizing throat, "I don' know why I didn' sense de bullets…" he trailed off brow furrowing in remembrance. Crimson pupils swept back and forth, drawn back into the memory, "Der was already a crowd, if I used m' powers it woulda spooked dem more.  Den dey woulda panicked, I didn' want pere's body t' be trampled under dem."

Hazel eyes flattened showing neither remorse nor forgiveness not accepting the excuse. "Remy y'r assignment stands," he reiterated, "but when y' done at dis Institute I don't want y' coming back t' Nawlins."  The youth body wavered in confusion, unspoken objection cut off with a gesture, "Y' still Guild, so y' follow Guild orders, but I don' want y' in m' city."  He continued in a cold voice devoid of emotion, "Y' not New Orleans Guild comprenez? I'm formally banishing y' from de New Orleans Guild.  I don' want y' back.  If y' come into de city, de assassins will have deir way, I won't send a single t'ief to protect y'." 

"Why y' doin' dis t' me Henri?" asked a shaken seventeen year old, a nearly forgotten sense of abandonment welling up more pronounced than ever before.  Banishment from his home Guild was everything.  His friends, family, career, everything was tied into the New Orleans Guild. He had trusted them to protect him, stand by him, and instead they had betrayed him.

"Why?" Henri parroted as if the answer was a forgone conclusion, "Because it's what y' deserve," he snarled circling the bowed form of the younger thief.  He waited until wide crimson and ebony eyes met his own before continuing, face mere inches from the younger Cajun, closeness a mockery of affection.  "It's y' fault Remy…" he said softly, placing a soft hand on his shoulder, "Y've failed…  Y' failed as a mutant. Y' failed as a t'ief.  An' y' failed as a son," he finished in a sibilant whisper, watching expressive mutant eyes flare in response.

Stepping away brusquely Henri withdrew another envelope, this one slightly thicker than the last, tossing it uncaringly onto the cobalt upholstered chair his brother was using to prop himself up.  The dispassionate tone made another appearance, "Dat's everytin' outta y' room dat be important. Au revoir, Remy," he said departing swiftly trench coat flaring behind him.

Seconds ticked on in silence, broken only by the two men's breathing.  Fury and Xavier exchanged shunted gazes, the young thief hadn't moved since his brother's parting words. Xavier had wanted to speak in the child's defense, but hadn't been allowed under the agreement with Henri LeBeau, letting him have uninterrupted time for his farewell. Charles began to regret that decision watching the thief's bruised hands clutch tightly to the top of the chair, knuckles whiting.  

A feeling of lightheadedness passed through Remy and he realized that he'd been holding his breath.  He let it out unsteadily an outpouring of emotion joining it unwittingly. All shreds of self control fled, the russet haired teen couldn't deny his emotions any longer, coming too quickly for him to push aside. Pain, betrayal, fear, and abandonment coiled together unmercifully, bursting with a mind shattering scream that only he could hear.  

It felt like his chest had collapsed, he was breathing rapidly but couldn't get any air.  He lifted the chair he had been using and threw it across the room, clattering noisily against the gray stone of the fireplace. A fist slammed into the nearest wall with a dull thump leaving a small crater in its wake, he'd gone beyond the point of sane behavior.  Henri had trapped him here more efficiently than any number of chains could have. Bound by loyalties to a Guild that didn't want him.

He spun toward the two men, auburn locks swinging with the motion, body vibrating delicately under the tension, "I'll stay 'ere," he forced out through his teeth, "but I ain't wearing dis damn t'ing!" he shouted gesturing wildly to the inhibitor collar, eyes glittering hypnotically, jugular straining the young mutant flushed in high color voicing his demand.

The gray eye of Fury appraised the teen before him, realizing he wasn't observing the accomplished thief Gambit, but an overwrought seventeen year old kid named Remy. The leader of Shield wasn't impervious to emotion, but wasn't about to return explosive powers to someone who'd just had their entire life dismantled before their eyes. The Colonel didn't want to lose the additional feature of tracking the thief either should the Guild allegiances Henri LeBeau was so sure of didn't prove enough to restrain the mutant thief.  Noting the hesitation the distraught teen edged closer, "Y' want Gambit t' work f' y' non?" he snapped, "Well if he be wearin' dis t'ing I can't guarantee y' results," he threatened accent deepening in his distress.

Xavier gazed steadily at the frustrated youth but his words were for Fury, "Do it."

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    Acadian Angel, Aldrean Treu Peri, Alhandra, brazos, brattax23, Bronny, Calsun, Carla, Dark Elf, Elanor, Equinox, Girlonthem00n,  Ishandahalf, Jebrylla, Jo the Phoenix, kaosda, Kismet Noelani, Kizmet, Ladine, LadyLyte, LotusPen, Nari, Neurotic Temptress, out-foxed, Rads: full name Radicals, Rae, Robin, Rogue Elf, Rupeshwari, samson, Sailor Wade, Silent, Shinigami-chan, Trendwest, trouble,Willow,wolfclan_88


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men or Shield, any related subjects belong to Marvel.  **

"What the hell was that!" barked Logan crashing his way into Xavier's study, Shield agents rushing beside.  Fury straightened his uniform front, holstering his sidearm a decidedly disgruntled expression on his face.  Xavier rolled his way toward the exit waving away the smoke curling throughout the room.

"I'm afraid that was Remy," spoke Xavier disappointment clear in his eyes.

"Xavier convinced me it would be a good idea give Gambit access to his powers, apparently he was wrong," stated Fury glaring at the professor.  He pointed to the two guards, "Jeffers, Beckett, find Gambit and haul his ass back here, now!" he demanded.  Any sympathetic feelings the commander of Shield had felt for the young teen evaporated when the youth charged up his inhibitor, flinging it wildly.  The resulting explosion had detonated outside, though still managed to create the hazy atmosphere that was now prevalent. A man used to situations souring quickly Fury had jumped up quickly blaster in hand, but the mutant thief had vanished.

"Wait!" shouted Xavier throwing up a hand as if he could halt the men, "Do not go after him, it will only agitate him further.  He'll perceive it as another attack worsening both our prospective positions.  Gambit has already given his word that he'll stay…I'm sure he hasn't left the grounds. Let me send someone less confrontational.  Think of all he has lost, I am sure he just needs a little time to process all of it," Xavier bargained.

"Processing? Is that what you call launching a bomb?" scalded Fury, unlit cigar finding its way into his mouth.

"He could have easily thrown it towards us as away if his intention was to do either of us harm.  Perhaps it was his powers reaction to the removal of the inhibitor," suggested the professor quickly.

"Probably just didn't want to blow himself up," Wolverine muttered darkly, receiving a sharp glare from Xavier.

 Colonel Fury eyed his expectant officers and the lined face of Xavier, debating his decision.  Xavier's first idea had backfired spectacularly, but they would continue to be involved through Gambit, they had to be willing to take one another's suggestions.

"Fine," Fury admitted gruffly, "you can send one of yours, but I want confirmation that he's onsite, before we pack up," he said sternly. "I can get him a few days, a week at the most before I send someone to collect him for his first assignment."

"A week!" exclaimed Xavier satisfaction of winning the first argument dying quickly. "The child needs more time than that, you saw the same scene I did! Remy needs time to recover," the professor protested.

"That all the time I can give him Xavier," Fury replied shaking his head gray eye staring down intently at the professor, "You don't understand the implications of our agencies getting dibs on a Guild thief.  This is completely unprecedented. You're lucky to get a week with the requests for his talents I have piling up on my desk."

"And if you send him on a mission before he is ready? What then?" proposed Xavier.

"Ya really don't know what yer dealing with do ya Chuck?" said Logan interrupting the conversation with a disbelieving chuckle.  "Guild thieves are the thieves to go to when ya wanna make sure something gets done, discrete and untraceable, they're the best.  I've seen them shut off their emotions at will for an assignment, pretty damn spooky if ya ask me."

"I did no require your input on his matter Logan, however I will take that under advisement," spoke Xavier coolly.

"I'm just saying ya should watch it Chuck. Gambit ain't a pet you can keep locked up, hell he's not one of those runaways you seem to collect either.  He's a sneak thief. A damn good one, which means you can't tame him like you have the rest of your projects."  The professor opened his mouth to deny the charges, but Wolverine overrode him growling, "Thieves are loners, wanderers, it's in the blood, ya can't keep a thief chained up like this, he'll snap.  Ya should get rid of him before he causes more trouble than a busted window, or you'll regret it."

"I am afraid that's impossible," stated Xavier, "His brother has turned him out of his home Guild…and I have adopted him. And Logan, I'm sure you'll remember that many of the students expressed similar doubts about your position here."

"Yeah," he snorted, "but if I go off you'll hear me coming," he said displaying his claws. A Guild thief with explosive powers…this whole place will go up in one great big bang.  Ya won't see it coming, just wake up one morning sitting on a stockpile of napalm," Wolverine warned.

"I am sure that will not be the case," said Xavier dark brows drawing down, battling his anger at Logan's innate pessimism. "I'm sending Ororo to locate 

Gambit, we can wait somewhere else for her conformation," the professor continued sternly, casting an unobtrusive glance to what had formerly been a picturesque window.

Gingerly perched on the apex of the Institute's roof a sunken form sat curled up upon itself, arms wrapped tightly around drawn up legs utterly detached from his surroundings.  The night wind tugging at already tousled auburn strands whipping them about. The thief huddled but whether from the chill wind or the emotions within it was uncertain.  He had never imagined his life could be utterly destroyed so quickly.  Though quickly was a relative term, he wasn't really able to grasp how much time had elapsed.  Like so many other things in his life it had eluded him, only causing further confusion as he tried to pin it down.  How long had he been perched on the slick shingles of this roof? How long since he'd knelt in an alley warm blood soaking though his jeans, how long since he'd left New Orleans? Arrived at the Institute, escaped, fought Shield…how long since his brother had disowned him, casting him out? The young Cajun couldn't begin to place a time with the events and he rubbed the bridge of his nose distressed, for someone with a near perfect memory this loss of time was a alarming.

He remembered glaring highlights if not the specific times, his brother's parting shot and his muted surprise when Xavier agreed to let him have his powers back.  Fury had gazed at him suspiciously chomping his jaw as if he had a foul taste in his mouth.  Slowly, almost as if against his will Fury drug a small gray rectangular device from his uniform pocket, tossing it grudgingly into the thief's waiting palm. Snatching it instinctively Remy took a moment to recognize the Shield acronyms emblazoned on it before running it hurriedly across the collar.  The mediocre light dimmed as the passkey came in contact with it.  An unobtrusive click and a small gap in the circuit appeared dropping into the teen's hands.

Pent-up power cascaded down his body in a crimson rush, an awing sight, gleaming ruby pupils relit fiercely, his enhanced vision returning throwing the room into a collage of sparks each one calling it's own song, begging for him to release their energy.

The red-hued energy slithered toward his upper arms flowing in a blaze of flame cumulating at his hands white hot sparks leaping off closed fists.  The air filled with the deadly symphony of his power as it came alive crackling and hissing at its restraint.  The mutant thief easily coaxed the energy into the collar he still held, charging rapidly taking on the same coloration as his powers.

A sharp whine broke out as a casual toss sailed the charged metal across the room.  Glass splintered nosily shattering against the frame as the collar struck detonating on impact.  Shock waves shuddered the room at the explosive release, and Xavier and Fury threw up their arms shielding from the impressive expansion of light. Smoke billowed in the room, wavering slowly through the demolished window frame.  The red eyed youth had followed the collars path out the window and found his way onto the roof before they could notice his departure.

Fearing his temper might do worse the young thief had left quickly, not wanting to remain in the presence of men integral to his incarceration.  Escaping to the roof was a temporary measure a best, but it held significantly more promise than the interminable woods he had so recently become acquainted with.

The young mutant thief couldn't face Fury or Xavier not with his head mired so deeply within his own thoughts, returned powers frightening in their intensity.  A gruff laugh that more likely resembled a moan escaped his clamped jaw as he carefully laid his head against his left knee. The man he had most respected and loved, his father, had been murdered.  His own unwillingness to leave his father's side had lead to an abducted by the government, forced to work for them. A stranger he had never known professed to adopt him, and it was all done with the gleeful consent of his own brother. A small power spike was the least of his worries.

Henri's words had cut deep, but part of him couldn't help but think that Henri had been right, his exhausted brain churning out supporting evidence. He had been the only thief present for his father's death and Guild thieves were duty-bound to protect each other, especially their Guild Master.  His powers he had worked so hard to control hadn't alerted him to the danger, but if they had, would he of reacted in time?  Could he have been able to save his father?  The question ragged at his soul, but he knew it was useless to debate the point.  Jean Luc was dead, and he had been the only one there with the possibility to save him. More than a thief or a mutant, he was his son, he should have been able to do more for his father than witness his last breaths.  Jean Luc had took him in as his own son, trained him in his profession, and he had done nothing to save him. Henri was right, he'd failed. And fate had seen to it he was punished for his indiscretions sending him into the grips of Xavier and Shield.

The realization clamped his gut painfully and he wrested his mind away from the thought, attempting to distract himself with the folder Henri had left behind. The red haired Cajun's hand hovered over it, ghosting the lines. He desperately wanted to touch it, open it, but feared his powers would obliterate it before he got a chance to view the contents.  Another though twisted in the recesses of him mind, he probably shouldn't open it.  His luck, if he had ever had any, had well and truly deserted him.  Whatever was left to him in the envelope might only serve to hurt him again, he wasn't sure his sanity could take any more blows and survive.  

A faint buzzing of newly activated senses informed him someone was approaching, kinetic sense easily picking up on the eddies in the energy field. Unnoticed by him the air subtly gained warmth, warding off night air. The normally boisterous teen waited in silence something he had been practicing often of late, hoping whoever it was would leave him alone as he so obviously wished to be. 

Snatches of memory stretched by ultimately variating between his encounter with Henri and Jean Luc's death.  The two fleshed together, and now it was his father face before him, telling him he couldn't come home, his brother laying dead in his arms.  Shaking his head to dispel the image Remy tried to sink farther away from it, unable his kinetic sense still registering another's presence.

The distressed teen brought another scowl to his face, something that came relatively easy, throwing it at the person who didn't have the courtesy to leave him in his solitude.  "What de hell y' want homme?" he snapped out.  Crimson eyes were narrowed shrewdly but did not convey surprise at seeing the white haired woman hovering a few feet away.  

Having finally gained his attention she lowered herself gracefully and walked the few remaining steps to the teen steadily, sitting down beside him crossing her legs at ease despite the precipitous location.  "I have simply come to see how you are faring," Ororo replied solemnly.  

"Well y' can tell dem dat Gambit's fine neh? Y' can go now," he growled, facing away from her, angered that they had thought he'd recant his word.

"I am sorry to hear about Jean Luc," she replied setting her hands on her lap, light blue irises paired with cat-like pupils gazing unflinchingly into the red haze of the teen's eyes produced by noiselessly crackling pupils.

"I'm sure," he replied grouchily tilting his head so his newfound bangs fell over his forehead messily, hoping the woman would leave. He'd recognized her from the woods, and wasn't in the mood to socialize with anyone who had chasing him on their resume. Storm held back an impatient frown, the professor asked her to find the teen, ensuring his well being along with his location.

"I'm aware we did not meet in the best of circumstances," spoke Storm, "in fact I do not believe we have met at all.  I am Ororo Munroe, or Storm if you prefer."  The teen skittered a glance to her,

"How nice f' y'," he sneered, "I'd tell y' m' name chere, but f' all I know, it be Remy Xavier right now."

"Of course," Ororo murmured distantly searching for another way to connect with the troubled teen. Anyone else accessing the mutant thief would see nothing more than what he projected, an insolent youth simply sniping at any one within distance.  An expert at controlling her own emotions Storm knew what turbulence could be hidden underneath calm waters, and the red haired youth seemed intimately familiar with misdirection.  Silence descended again, and Ororo sat unassumingly, creating and rejecting several courses of action before deciding to be as direct as possible.  "Did you like the fog I sent you?" she asked simply.

"What y' be talkin' bout chere? Y' bump y' head o' somet'in'?" he returned with a slanting glance out of a crimson eye, a slight shift of his leg belied his interest, passing as it was.

"We are all mutants at this Institute. Controlling the weather is my power, which is why I am called Storm.  I beckoned the clouds to give rain hiding your scent from Logan, created fog to obscure your corporal form and brought forth lightening to destroy the disturbance you made in the soil."

"Even if I did believe y' did all dat, why would y?  Y' don' know Remy, no reason to help him," he accused.

"Not directly," she admitted, "but I knew Jean Luc," she added soft blue eyes covering the disbelieving features of the slender figure before her.  The young thief seemed to be studying her features ardently and she held her breath under his inspection.

"Y' don look like y' be lying chere," he said quietly voice taking on a smooth rolling quality she hadn't detected in his jeers.  "Where'd y' meet him?" he questioned.

"It was a long time ago," she said absentmindedly, scanning the forest beyond, relaxing into her memories.  "You are aware of all the other Guilds," she continued not seeing his answering nod.  "I…I was a thief when I was younger. My parents died unexpectedly leaving me orphaned.  I was taken in by a man named Achmed, he taught me to be a thief.  I was happy as a pickpocket or so I thought, for several years," she replied.

"Your father visited one day, and he took me aside from the rest of the children.  He spoke of a woman, a seer that she had told him of me, that I wasn't supposed to be a thief, the fates had something else in mind.  Jean Luc offered to help me disappear from that life," she trailed off, a small frown gracing her features.  "I didn't believe him at the time, but the next year he came again, and I took him up on his offer.  I had begun to feel guilt over stealing, usually from people who probably needed the money as much as I."

Remy continued to stare intently as Ororo finished her story, careful to keep the minute threads of charm wrapped around her, straining to detect any hint that would prove her story was fabricated. "I did not want to leave Africa so he helped me find my mother's tribe.  I stayed with my people for several years as I discovered my powers, living as their Goddess."

"Y' didn' know him f' very long den neh?" pointed out the thief.  Jean Luc was often away for Guild business, he could have met her as she claimed.  But estimating with the cloudy time references she gave, and the fact that she appeared a few years older, he was sure had still been on the streets when she had met up with Jean Luc. She couldn't have known about him.

 "On the contrary, Remy" she returned with a small smile hinting over her delicate features, "Later Professor Xavier contacted me and brought me to America to become a part of this Institute, first as a student, then as a teacher.  Your father learned I was in the States and we have been corresponding since that day. That is how I knew it was you.  He spoke of you often, I believe I have a picture of you somewhere in my loft," Ororo mused.

Remy turned the information over in his mind, she had helped him because Jean Luc had helped her.  But it had to be more than a simple trade of favors if they had been in contact for years.

"I've neva heard him speak of y'," the lithe teen said twisting a shingle corner between his dexterous fingertips. 

"We kept our correspondence confidential. Technically Jean Luc stole another Guild member's apprentice, a charge the Guilds do not take lightly." 

The young mutant thief didn't reply simply gazing out at the manicured lawn, the mention of Guild rules dissolving his short-lived respite from his own thoughts, exhaustion nipping behind.  It was foolish tipping his hand and letting the others see how upset he had become, but he even he had a limit of how much he could take and not feel it. He had been dealing with it as he'd been taught, pushing aside his emotions for the job, only the thought of returning home keeping himself in check.  

But after what Henri said, there would be no going home, ever.  He'd ripped away everything that held any importance to him and traded him over to Xavier with no more qualms than exchanging vehicles.  It brought back darker memories of being treated as a commodity, a thing, but the teen jerked away from it.  There were only so many problems he could deal with at once.

The knowledge that Ororo was at the Institute, someone who had known his father and could share in his grief eased his suffering minusculely.  He believed her tale. His charm wasn't a lie detector, but it made people comfortable enough that the truth would generally spill out. However ally or not, the teen didn't expect his stay to be pleasant.

He only had a year to live out at the Institute, but his indentured service to Shield would last as long as Henri demanded it.  He had gained Master status which had allowed him his pick of lucrative assignments.  But this job wasn't an offer, it was an order, and he couldn't go against it.  Despite the thieves technological involvement in many ways they still followed their archaic beginnings.  The young thief had no illusions left to him, refusing his Guild Master especially in light of recent matters, would result in his death.

He pushed his bangs back again, unaccustomed to the motion, watching the carriers of Shield dust off flying into the dark sky.  The red haired thief couldn't feel relief at their absence, knowing they would return only too quickly.  Heaving a sigh that struggled out the Cajun's throat he took another sideways glance at the woman who called herself Storm.  She appeared very calm, though whether it was a natural aptitude or an aftereffect of his charm he wasn't sure.

Storm caught his eye and gestured to the envelope that sat pressed underneath his knee, "Are you going to open it?" she asked concern imprinted on her exotic features.

"Mebbe," he muttered but made no move to touch the bulky folder.  

"I'm sure it's very personal," replied Storm quietly, "I will leave you to open it yourself." She walked over to a near skylight unlatching it neatly, "This goes to a staircase in the loft, feel free to use it when you depart. I am sure it is a much simpler way of digress than your original ascent.  Do not stay out much longer, it is late," the former goddess chided, taking her own advice exiting through the skylight.  
    
    And of course, tons of gratitude goes out to all the reviewers, Thank you!!
    
    Acadian Angel, Aldrean Treu Peri, Alhandra, Azurielle, brazos, brattax23, Bronny, Calsun, Carla, Dark Elf, Elanor, Equinox, 
    
    Girlonthem00n,  Ishandahalf, Jebrylla, Jo the Phoenix, kaosda, Kismet Noelani, Kizmet, Ladine, LadyLyte, LotusPen, Lynn, 
    
    Mad Alice, Nari, Neurotic Temptress, out-foxed, Rads: full name Radicals, Rae, Rehsh, Robin, Rogue Elf, Rupeshwari, 
    
    samson, Sailor Wade, Silent, Shinigami-chan, smeg, tamara, Trendwest, trouble,Willow,wolfclan_88


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men or Shield, any related subjects belong to Marvel.  **

"You're not supposed to smoke in here," Katherine Pryde pointed out ducking into the room of the Institute's newest student.  The room had been cleaned since his unauthorized departure, but now bits of wire and tools were strewn about the room.  Remy was currently pulling a tangle of wire out of the intercom system.  She normally wouldn't have entered without knocking, but his door lay canted to one side until it was replaced.  The lock and part of the door had been shredded so it had hung oddly refusing to close.

Gambit appeared nearly identical to the first time she had met him, the bruises from the second meeting fading away.  He wore a pair of tight washout jeans and a forest green Mac t-shirt contrasting appealingly with the lengthy red locks draped against his shirt collar. 

The lithe figure took a moment to step away from the panel he was working on and take a drag with his right hand the smoke curling out of his mouth unhurriedly before he replied,  "An' y' t'ink I care because?"

A shrill beeping interrupted the young brunette before she began her speech and Kitty stepped back into the hall jumping slightly and phasing her fingers through the smoke detector shorting it out with a fizzle of sparks.

Kitty Pryde returned to the room in her former position trying to ascertain what exactly was different from her initial encounter.  Gambit was handsome in a way that put every male she knew to shame, even with the dark glasses obscuring half his face, angled cheekbones she wouldn't mind having herself.  But the easy smiles he had so generously bestowed the first day had disappeared. He traveled about the mansion with elegant stretches of well-defined limbs, but Kitty couldn't loose the feeling that every move was purposeful, calculated. 

The professor had told the older students to try and integrate Remy him into Institute life as quickly as possible.  He explained with Shield entering his life erratically Remy would need stability. His life had suffered irrevocable damage and any previous supports he may have had were available. Gathering her resolve Kitty tried for a somewhat more enlightening conversation.   "The smoke detector," she began lamely answering his previous question, uselessly as it turned out, as he'd begun another cigarette.   "Dr. Grey said she thinks your mutation is just starting to develop, but most of the students arrive right after their powers manifest so everyone is used to dealing power surges," she assured him.  

That particular comment didn't warrant much of a reaction either though his expression leant towards that of one suffering a fool.  Kitty felt a brief flash of irritation, she had dealt with the same thing from Scott and even Logan occasionally, but she was at least one year older than Remy.  She pursed her lips and continued, maybe he saw the last comment as an insult, so compliment next, "They said you fight really well so you can skip all the beginner levels in the danger room…" she said voice lowering suddenly realizing how odd that would sound for a regular school.

Kitty was granted a roll of black and red eyes beneath sunglasses as he finished replacing the panel on the intercom flipping switches, "Y' really t'ink I didn' know dat dis place houses de X-Men?" he scoffed.

"You're a thief," she countered, "why would you care about mutants fighting for equal rights?"

"Y' get paid more f' information den a pretty picture any day o' de week," the thief replied coolly, brushing the scrap wire into the trash.

"Who else knows?" questioned Kitty suspiciously.

"Who don' know," he corrected, "Y' not as good as wit secrets as y' seem t' t'ink y' are. Bright uniforms, dat big jet, ain't exactly subtle," he drawled.

"Should I tell the professor?" Kitty hedged, questioning herself aloud.

"I'm sure he already knows," the red haired mutant replied making a vague gesture with his right hand smoke following the motion as he placed the panel back on the intercom.

"Professor Xavier doesn't abuse his gift like that, it goes against his morals to read people without permission.  I bet that's really weird, having him be your dad, well legally anyway," Kitty said kicking herself for her inapt comment. She was supposed to make friends and she was definitely not endearing herself to him.

The cigarette he had been holding dropped to the floor smoldering in the green carpet and Kitty swore she could see jags of red lightening through his shades.  The mutant thief edged closer, face impassive but muscles rigidly set, neck corded and the brunette really wished phasing through the floor would be an acceptable way to end the conversation.

 "My pere be Jean Luc LeBeau, not Xavier, o' anybody else. Don' matta what dat scrap o' paper says oui?" he said voice slithering with eerie determination.

"Oh yeah definitely," agreed Kitty deciding to leave the welcoming to someone else as she had already broken several of the guidelines Xavier had devised.  "Well see you around," she said trying to salvage her last slivers of dignity backing out of the room.  

Her family life had been fairly normal, and her powers once mastered hadn't left her with much difficulties, but dealing with being a mutant, and conditioning to be an X-Men, that had been hard.  She had trained diligently to get to the station she was at, most of the students here would never have the opportunity to become a member of the X-Men.  But a few moments with Remy had shaken her confidence levels dropped severely.  

Gambit's recent history had become common knowledge around the Institute, his arrangement with Shield being one of the main topics of conversation on campus. She'd seen the bruises on the officers, and heard Wolverine's description of his fighting style.  He was remarkably collected considering, even if he had accidentally blown up a few objects. Kitty had to admit she was impressed, if one of her parents died she'd be a mess for weeks, months even. Instead Remy was coping admirably, stirring up the X-Men and nonchalantly re-wiring the circuitry to his room.  She knew Remy must have loved his father from his defensiveness, and she wondered what he had happened in his life to be able to behave that impersonally mere days after his father's death.  And she wondered if it was worth it.

Remy threw all the tools on the desk and stepped into the bathroom the metallic clatter hanging in the air. He hooked the sunglasses through his copper mane, splashing water over a heated complexion disguised by his tan.  Getting upset with an audience hadn't been part of his plan, but the brunette had worked on nerves that were taut enough without her tripping over them. 

He had risen late having spent the majority of the night atop the roof.  When he had finally made an appearance there had been an appalling amount of paperwork that he'd grudgingly filled out with falsified information.  Tests comprised most of the day, though forced integration with the other students near his age came a close second. Apparently the thought was to mire him in matters at the Institute and he'd forget all about his life, his real life, shattered though it may be.

It was pathetic, only serving to remind him of his friends he'd left in New Orleans that he'd probably never see again.  These kids had lived a good portion of their life at the Institute, very few knew what it would be to have to survive on their own.  Completely alone, not just with a set of parents who weren't thrilled about their child being a mutant.  Xavier actually had the gall to offer counseling because Xavier believed he was in a 'fractured mental state'.  Gambit had given a bitter smile and declined.  He didn't need Xavier in his mind in any capacity, shrink or telepath.

Remy heard a knock against the frame of his door and he groaned audibly, not another one, hadn't the brunette just left?  Checking the clock, the teen raised an eyebrow in surprise when it showed nearly a half an hour had passed.  

A guy this time, light blonde hair, blue eyes, oh of course, Remy thought sourly, the one who'd almost been lynched by a mob because he'd used his powers in front of a crowd.  It might have been a touching story if he hadn't grown up in a town where people still practiced voodoo.  For his red and black eyes people's imaginations immediately assigned him a demonic origin.  For visible mutants mobs and gangs were an undesirable but indelible aspect of life.

"Hey I'm Bobby," the blonde teen introduced himself, sure the other had forgotten his name already, remembering being drowned in names his first day.  Well it wasn't exactly the guy's first day, but it amounted to the same thing.

"Gambit," the red haired teen commented reluctantly shaking the offered hand, eyes sweeping over the room realizing there wasn't really that much left to do, he'd finished altering the intercom so no one could inadvertently listen in.  

"Really I thought it was Remy something or other," said Bobby, "But if you prefer Gambit, no problem, a lot of us carry secondary names.  I heard what you did to Scott's tests, wish I'd been there," he added seemingly oblivious to the scathing look he received plopping onto the other teen's bed.  "I wonder what you got."

"Depends on how close de answer sheet be t' de pattern wit all de X's I made," the Cajun teen replied smoothly.  He had been less than amused by the X-Men's attempts to categorize him with the other students.  The original stack of materials they'd given him had become the first casualties of his charge.  Scott didn't appreciate the destruction and Xavier entered with another pile of tests along with reminders for Remy of his obligations.

Gambit hadn't even bothered reading the questions, circling answers haphazardly, skipping the essays altogether.  The thief remembered Henri's words in painstaking clarity and assumed he would for the remainder of his life. Henri gave Fury the same authority as a Guild Master, but had said nothing of deference to Xavier.

"It doesn't really matter," spoke Bobby interrupting the other teen's ruminations, "they decided to put you in all the advanced classes anyways."

"Grande," the thief murmured wondering if applying his charm could contribute anything towards herding the other mutant out of his room.  Using his charm wasn't painful in any way, but blocking it up afterwards caused discomfort, a line of pressure from the center of his forehead down to the base of his neck. The young thief had been using his charm often of late and didn't want any additional strain.  

Remy's chill demeanor went unnoticed by the blonde as he hopped up and bounced around the room commenting on the decor.  "You know this place could really use some personal touches maybe new lamps or something, this place has been smothered by Jean's decorating, you can always tell, everything matches," Bobby grinned sweeping his hand encompassing the green and cream room.  "Ah hah," he triumphed spotting a large yellow envelope on the middle of the desk.  "Gambit were you holding out on me? I bet your scores in here," he said plucking the folder from its spot.

"Y' gonna want t' put dat back homme," Gambit advised as Bobby claimed it hugging the envelope to his chest.

"Aw come on, I'll tell you what I got," he offered smirking as he opened the folder quickly, freezing Gambit's boots to the carpet for insurance.  "Whoa, this is not test results," Bobby narrated overlooking the haul.  "We have cards, cigarettes…and a metal stick?" Bobby said questioningly hefting the cylinder.

"Whateva y' done, y' best undo it, I don' want to repaint the ceiling vous comprehendes?" Gambit warned hands beginning to flicker with scarlet energy.

"I'm just looking," replied Bobby innocently extending the layer of ice, drawing it almost up the Gambit's knee, spinning the metal object, "what is this?" he queried of his fellow mutant, congratulating himself on distracting Remy much more effectively than Kitty had.  Xavier didn't like that Remy was avoiding all the other students, the only person he had really spoken to was Storm.

"It be somet'in Gambit'll use t' pound y' into de ground in de next couple minutes Ice," he threatened, ruby eyes glittering ethereally, crimson energy crawling up his forearms.  Unless Remy wanted to lose his legs in the process blowing off the ice wasn't a possibility.  Making Bobby a scorch on the carpet was a very appealing prospect, but his charge had built quicker than he'd expected, if he launched anything now he probably would kill Bobby something he wasn't quite prepared to do.

"And what else do we have?" continued Bobby oblivious to the enemy in the making, "A photo? Perhaps one of the X-Men of the female persuasion gave you a memento?" Bobby cracked aware of the sycophantic looks that followed the auburn haired Cajun despite his obvious detachment.

Bobby flipped the picture several times before recognizing its importance, a soft "oh…" escaping his lips.  This wasn't stuff from the Institute, it was stuff from home, one if he understood correctly Gambit couldn't go back to.  Oh yes, this was bad, no wonder Gambit looked like he wouldn't mind repainting the ceiling, or laying new carpet, redoing everything that would be tarnished in an explosion of Bobby bits. 

"Okay, um…" Bobby began wringing his neck worriedly, there was no graceful way out of this, "I'm really sorry, I didn't know this was home stuff, honest.  Well uh see you in class," he offered with a weak smile, silently chanting 'please don't kill me' as he melted the ice darting out the open doorway.

Remy curbed his anger at the departing mutant,  he should have paid more attention when they were describing their powers then he wouldn't have been caught unaware. Gambit held his hands away from his body willing the power to disperse.  He wasn't completely sure how his charges worked, but he knew reabsorbing took more effort than releasing them.  He closed flashing red and black eyes erasing the erratic patterns that overlaid his normal vision.  

Gambit waited for the undulating feel of his powers to disappear before opening his eyes again, approaching the maple framed bed guardedly. He hadn't been able to open the envelope himself, and now the innocuous appearing contents lay scattered.  

Systematically he pocketed the package of cigarettes and tucked playing cards away into his shirt.  He picked up his Bo relieved to have the weapon back, extending it once before placing it on his person as well.  Realistically he didn't need it,  with honed fighting skills and charging ability he was a weapon.  It just felt good to have something from home other than memories.  

He ran his hands over the slightly rumpled comforter searching for the photo that had caused Bobby to flee from the room, it wasn't in the folds and he stepped back a few paces. He shifted his weight reaching under the bed coming up with the small bit of paper.  Remy sat with one knee folded beneath him, holding the photo delicately.   With a steady hand the youth turned it over breath stolen from his lungs.

It was a photo from Jean Luc's funeral.  A close shot of a satin lined casket, he looked…the same, perhaps a little older a peaceful expression on his face that hadn't been there at his death.  

Remy's fingertips brushed the photograph gently, feeling ill knowing that a mortician had fixed that expression onto his father's face.  Jean Luc hadn't had peace at his death because he had known, known the same thing Henri had, that his son had failed him.  His fathers last moments must have been of disappointment and regret, he'd taken an orphan off the streets and into his home, taught him everything he knew, and gotten nothing in return. 

"M' sorry," Remy intoned voice barely a whisper, squeezing his eyes tightly the image following him undeterred by darkness.  "I shoulda done somet'ing f' y' shoulda seen it," he cursed himself, auburn hair shifting forward shadowing flaming orbs.  The teen wrapped one arm against his chest the other to the floor for balance.  He wet his lips, swallowing noisily as hot tears he hadn't noticed massing trailed down his face, he had gotten his goodbye.  The thief wiped at his tears angrily ashamed at his reaction.

Remy rose quickly forcing a defiant expression onto his features, trying to shroud himself within his working persona. He held the picture carefully searching for a safe place to store it.  A flicker of uncertainty followed the thought, he didn't feel comfortable leaving any of his belongings here.  

Not knowing where else to place it, it went into his back pocket opposite his cigarettes.  Staying at the Institute would only tighten the knot that had taken up permanent residence in center of his chest.   He'd agreed to live here, to him that meant just where he slept, and going out on his own for a few hours might settle his nerves.  Gambit checked his reflection in the mirror carefully making sure there were no traces of his momentary indiscretion, raking his slightly wavy locks into a ponytail.

The bars still sat ominously in his window so the Cajun slunk through the house with enforced mental shields, gliding unnoticed past students and teachers alike.  The red haired teen slipped out to the garage grabbing an abandoned leather jacket off a hook as he passed.  The black jacket was waist length, not his usual style but expedience held superiority.  If he was going to be this close to New York, he'd make a visit to the New York Thieves Guild.  He didn't know many of the New York thieves but he knew the right ones which is what mattered.  It wasn't exactly family, but he had always been a thief first and mutant second. It felt more natural to be in a thief lair of than a house of mutants.

Gambit studied the contents of the spacious garage, the familiar odor of gasoline permeating the structure. It was crowded with vehicles, most of them cars, the majority too flashy to be inconspicuous.  There was an elder jeep and an extended van but both looking so well-used he wasn't sure they'd make the trip.  The dull glint of matte paint caught the thief's attention and he slid between two cars jeans scraping against the grill with a dull rustle perceptible only to those in his chosen profession.

A modest cluster of motorcycles had been hidden in the shade of the behemoth van.  Two were muscle Harleys, a classic Boss Hog, and a newly produced V-Rod.  The speed bike whose black matte finish he had glimpsed was dubbed the most mobile and least visible of all the vehicles, a Decati Monster, not too dissimilar from the one he'd had in New Orleans.

Gambit cocked back the kickstand wheeling it across the cool cement.  As an afterthought he grabbed a helmet from one of the shelves lining the side wall.  He wasn't usually that cautious but it would help him blend concealing naturally highlighted auburn tresses.

The prowling thief guided the bike out the door lighting another cigarette with a charged fingertip, paying no attention to the rather large spark that ignited it.  The driveway was long enough to dispense with the possibility of sneaking the bike out unobserved.  If stealth wasn't feasible,  speed would suffice.  Seven seconds under expert manipulation and the bike purred to life.  The lithe teen swung astride and revved the engine loudly shooting down the drive.  With borrowed jacket, helmet and bike any students who saw him would hopefully be unable to place a name to the figure, at least until he made it into the city.  

There's a ton more people reviewing than I thought there'd be, thank you for expending the effort—makes me majorly happy and does in fact help the fic.  Without them this would be a much, much shorter story…thanks again!!

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	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men or Shield, any related subjects belong to Marvel.  **

Jean leaned against the elevator wall peeling off her lab coat as it ascended, she'd had to stay behind for one of her students that was taking an exam, and was consequently running a  few minutes late.   While the students ate in the dining hall, the senior staff had a small room adjoining that exuded a feeling of family that they'd had in the beginning years of the Institute.  There were far too many students to continue that type of environment, but the staff tried to hold on to the tradition.

Striding briskly through the halls Jean slowed as she entered the small dining room pulling up her chair returning smiles apologetically to Scott and Professor Xavier already seated.  The table dropped in a teal tablecloth was for six, but most of the chairs were empty.  Xavier as always sat at the head of the table, Scott just beside on his right, graciously pouring her a glass of tea as she settled in. 

The plates were passed around as Cyclops spoke, "If either of you see Wolverine before I do ask him to come to my office he took one of the motorcycles without signing it out again," groused Scott.

"Wolverine couldn't have taken it out," commented Jean picking up her fork, "He took some of the younger students on a survivalist expedition, no vehicles allowed."

"That isn't on the schedule," frowned Cyclops having a meticulous memory for detail he was often stuck devising class schedules and trips.

"I know," Jean smiled gently after swallowing a bite of salad, "but that trip has been postponed so many times, when the kids got around to asking him again he couldn't say no."

"So if Logan didn't take it out, who did?" questioned Cyclops setting down his glass abruptly.  The trio exchanged glances and a single thought passed through the group not requiring any assistance from the two telepaths present. 

Xavier threw down his napkin more in exasperation than in anger, his first days as a guardian did not appear to be going well. He put a hand to his temple, "That child's proving more difficult to keep track of than Wolverine," the professor lamented tiredly.

"Jubilee was the last person you asked to speak with him.  Perhaps he told her something, I'll call her in," Jean offered closing her eyes sending out her request.

"Ask Storm as well," Xavier said stiffly, the wind rider presently overseeing the students in the dining hall.  Jean gave a small nod of acknowledgement and a few moments later the contrasting pair entered the room, a petite Japanese girl with short dark hair, and a tall African woman with a lengthy mane of silver-white hair.

"You called professor?" spoke Ororo in a rich voice, speaking for herself and Jubilee.

"Yes, Jubilee," said Xavier focusing his attention on the youth, "I wanted to inquire how your conversation with Remy went," asked Xavier.

"Oh," replied Jubilee stretching out the word, ensured that she herself wasn't in trouble, "Yeah well actually I never got that done," she shrugged.  "He wasn't in his room when I checked so I figured I'd let it go.  Besides Kitty and Bobby pretty much bombed it anyway…"

Cyclops broke in, "That's enough Jubilee, thank you."

"Sure," she replied with a wave jolting back out to join her peers.

"Storm," began Xavier as he gestured for her to take a seat, "It is your responsibility to watch over the students in the dining hall this evening, would you care to explain why you didn't inform anyone that Remy was missing?"

"He's missing?" asked Ororo with surprise that did not sound entirely genuine. 

"You're saying you didn't notice he wasn't there?" asked Cyclops skeptically.

"There are a great many students as you well know Scott, and dinner has just begun.  Furthermore I did not know if he had been summoned by one you or indeed if he decided to have dinner at all," Ororo defended.

"We should bring him back here Professor," spoke Scott concern overshadowing his instinctive disgust at the teen's abrupt departures. "I'll admit I don't know Gambit well enough to be able to predict his moves, but he's also a teenager. I'd bet anything that he went to New York.  The city is dangerous," he continued, "he shouldn't be out there alone."

"Haven't we been discussing how dangerous and capable he is for the last few days?" interrupted Jean, "Shield plans to use him as an agent and he appears to be more than combat ready."

Scott shook his head in disagreement, "From what Logan said, Guild members generally don't stray far from home, there's no reason to suspect that he's made much travel outside of New Orleans other than for a job. In and out, he wouldn't have much time to be in contact with much of the populace."

"Do you believe he could be in danger?" questioned Storm her features pinching.  Cyclops gave Storm a short look before continuing, 

"As much as we'd like to be, the X-Men can't be everywhere.  Mutant hate groups have actually been increasing their activity, The FOH, Humans First, they're mostly northern organizations and his eyes would draw them straight to him."

Xavier sat silently for a few moments debating, "I would like to develop some kind of trust with Remy," said the professor frustrated, "we are going to have to extend trust before he'll even attempt to give it.  However it will be impossible if we continue to chase after him, though his personal safety is foremost in my mind."

"What do you intend to do?" questioned Jean quietly.  The professor tilted his head as he responded,

"I will search for him telepathically, should he be in any danger I will send the team out."

 "I thought you couldn't do that," said Scott.

"Gambit's shields do not make him invisible, not yet at any rate, only very difficult to track.  I had assumed with the scant familiarity I had with Gambit that I would be able to find him.  But his shields make that impossible, instead of looking for his thoughts, I will have to search until I register a blank spot if you will," said the professor groping for terms.

Jean recognized what the professor was explaining and attempted a translation, "It's like swinging a board in the dark knowing something's there only because you've smacked into it." Jean looked at the dismayed expressions of her fellow X-Men around the table, "It shouldn't hurt, I think," she answered their unspoken question.

Hidden by deft shadows of an alleyway the young Cajun melded through the evening light, invisible to the passerby.  Should the onlooker's eyes been able to pierce the gloom they would have noticed something off, not quite right about the figure.  Tall and handsome clothed in a short leather jacket, he didn't have the greasy unkempt look of local gangs.  But bangs feathered in his eyes coupled with the careless hint of danger shrouding the teen told he wasn't the typical adolescent either.  If the observer stayed just a moment longer they might pin down what was jarring at the back of their brain.  Not that the red headed teen was walking down twisting alleys during the midst of rush hour, but that he made absolutely no sound.  Eerily silent, never wholly in darkness nor the light the lanky teen's smooth steps landed noiselessly in the litter strewn alley.

Remy LeBeau paused momentarily scanning his surrounding behind a pair of dark wrap around designer shades he had liberated from one of the many boutiques that could be found in a city like New York. Pick-pocketing and petty theft a childhood practice he hadn't forsaken despite his inclusion into the world of hi-tech theft. He confirmed the absence of spectators with his kinesthetic sense  before opening the entranceway to an establishment he knew to be owned, operated, and exclusively frequented by the New York Thieves Guild. 

The gruff man standing at the door made no move to halt him as he slipped inside. Gambit didn't know the man, but there was something about Guild thieves that transcended physical appearance.  They made a livelihood from laughing at the law, those who spent their time cracking safes, codes, and security systems had a certain quality that was undeniable.  An almost electric force about them, no greater than in the rush of a pinch.

Guild business was fairly lucrative and the quiet decadence of the place showed it.  Though the area wasn't overly large, it used the space leisurely in a city where apartments were measured in inches.  Lit in the light shadow that their careers served, a small unaffected bar stood against the left wall, the wood gleaming, a few scattered stools beside.  The clacking of a pool cue called his attention to the few tables busy with activity, men circling for a better view.  Low tables were dispersed irregularly, enough room was left for a dance floor though it was under populated in the early hours. Smoke swirled unconcerned throughout the posh space though heavier from one of the connecting rooms. The jangling of chips and good-natured laughter trickled out proving it to be the card room, gambling being a favored pastime of thieves.  Their entire lives were based on chance, a gamble every job risking life, limb, freedom and reputation.

Terseness the young thief didn't recall carrying oozed away as he breathed in the familiar atmosphere.  Making it to the city undetected had relaxed him somewhat, but being in the presence of his fellow thieves was soothing. He didn't necessarily need to speak with anyone, but here he wouldn't be singled out or hounded for being a thief because they all were.  

Realizing he had stopped just short of the entranceway Remy padded his way to the bar several people's gazes darting upwards at his arrival.  Dismissing him as a danger the chatter in the room quickly picked up its former pace and volume, if not louder than before. Remy eased himself onto a chair as a gray haired bartender approached unhurriedly.  

"Bourbon, s'il vous plaît," Gambit called as the man drew near.  Obviously a former thief enjoying his retirement the man completed his task slowly paying no heed to the fact that he was obviously underage.  

Gambit inhaled the scent briefly before downing the liquid burning a path down his throat.  After busting into an unsecured liquor cabinet years earlier bourbon had become a favored drink.  His father disliked that his son had picked up the habit so young, but he wasn't exactly available to admonish his young son.  The mutant thief believed that thought deserved another drink, and he signaled the bartender accepting his second glass pressing further into his chair.  A few moments passed before the faint buzz he was used to started up and he was worriless for a short while.  

Behind the shades red pupils dilated sharply making the lights seem brighter the wide mirror behind the bar collected the light unbearingly. The red tressed teen swiveled his chair away from it, placing his forehead in his hand trying not to draw anyone's interest.  He couldn't remember bourbon ever hitting him so quickly before, it felt like a truck had slammed into his head.  He raised his head blinking abruptly as a dark-haired man in gray slacks strode quickly out the door darting eye-contact with the New Orleans youth.  

Gambit paused briefly more to ease the aching of his head than a desire to be inconspicuous.  He knew the man that had departed so swiftly,  Raymond Elloris.  A thief based in New York Remy would have never met Ray if he hadn't inadvertently shown him up on a job.  Elloris had arrived back at his Guild with a dummy disk that Remy had planted over a week before Elloris's planned break into the software designer's lab.  The resulting situation left Ray in embarrassment and gained Gambit another unfriendly face.  Curious enough to follow, the teen placed a few large bills on the counter and strolled out sedately.   Chasing after Elloris in a town not his own wasn't a textbook decision, and one hand never strayed far from the teen's jacket pocket where his cards had been relocated.

Remy glimpsed Ray briefly as he turned the corner and lengthened his stride to close the distance, joining with the hurried crowd.  The next corner he turned was a menagerie of color, but barren of the visage he sought.  Wishing now he had forgone the drinks, the red eyed teen gave up on the direct approach and ducked back into a convenient alley barring the images threatening to repaint the scene, expediently pulling himself up a fire escape.  Buildings stifling close Remy was able to leap from one to another with ease landing in the easy crouch he had learned long ago.  Making a quick estimation on the man's next move Gambit made a wide circle, dropping down his flight.

The lithe teen waited contemptuously on the edge of a street corner arms folded casually as he waited for Elloris to appear.  Moments later the man nearly knocked him over and Remy shot out an arm to anchor them both.  A narrow smirk and a raised eyebrow met the figure, "Ray, what do I owe de honor?" he asked sarcastically.

Raymond straightened smoky green eyes catching their reflection on a set of shades, "I was sent to help you, but if you'd rather I leave?" he returned in a biting tone.

"Really, now why don' Gambit believe y'?" the teen asked with a devilish grin.

"Look LeBeau, I have no problem with leaving you high and dry, but I was sent by your Tante Mattie.  You want to hear what she has to say or not?" the man challenged black hair excessively gelled, apparently willing to walk away without delivering his message.

"An' what assurances do I have dat de info comes from Mattie?" Remy questioned lifting his brows.  

"You don't but you know I'd never contact you unless I had to Gambit.  All your friends seem to be in lockdown, any jobs they had in NYC were either cancelled or transferred to a less conflicted thief," replied the dark haired man 

"Contact m'," the younger thief said incredulously, "I had t' chase y' down.  If y' wanted t' talk why'd y' leave de bar?" 

"I don't know if you noticed Gambit, but the crowd there wasn't exactly friendly.  I knew if I left you'd follow, your curiosity gets you every time.  Follow," the elder thief beckoned, "I know a place with a slightly more appropriate audience."  Gambit grabbed the man by the elbow before he could disappear,

"Before I go anywhere wit y' I want t' know why y'd do this, I got why Mattie chose y', but why did y' accept?"

Raymond's eyes narrowed but Remy didn't loosen his grip, "I was by New Orleans on a job, she asked me for a favor, I couldn't refuse." Elloris stated.  "Every one seems to owe Mattie a favor, and I owed one of those people."

Remy nodded grudgingly in understanding Ray stepping back immediately losing himself in the throng once more.  Remy didn't hesitate walking abreast the man this time. Even if a minimalist sense of honor didn't bind Raymond the man wouldn't be much of an issue.  He was several years older, but Elloris wasn't a master thief, and probably never would be.  Gambit didn't plan on believing everything he heard from Elloris, but should the situation go south he knew he could take out Raymond even with the headache rattling his skull.

Ray stopped after a few minutes of walking through the rush of bodies and turned into a small restaurant.  Not exactly the casual wealth of the bar they'd just left, but it wasn't beat down either the perfect place for the two thieves to blend. The waitress glanced at the pair as they entered and Pierre held up two fingers as he claimed a booth near the back of the establishment.  The company was mixed so neither the leather jacket or Ray's conservative street clothes drew any extra attention. 

In an unconscious decision the two refrained from speaking until the waitress had left their drinks as to not be interrupted, and Remy noted with passing interest the aging blonde had given him a soft drink instead of the beer he'd ordered.  "D'accord," Remy began, "Let's make dis quick, I want t' visit de Guild House 'fore I leave de city tonight."

"Why didn't you go directly to the Guild House if you were in town LeBeau?" Raymond questioned. "That is protocol for visiting thieves."  Ray received the impassive look of a professional, but could resist baiting him.

"Ain't none of y'r business Ell',"  Remy returned breezily.

"Could it be because you're worried you might not be welcome there?"

"I ain't done nothin' wrong t' de New York Guild," Gambit lauded. 

"Guild Leader's been murdered, and no one's been brought to justice.  Gives the New Orleans Guild a bad name, and your brother is making sure that any blame falls directly on your shoulders. Henri can only ban you from New Orleans, not Guild society, but he may as well have.  You can enter, but that isn't a guarantee that you'll make it out," Ray advised. "I'd stay out of the American Guilds if you can, Europe might be a tad more forgiving though I suppose you'll be too busy running around for Shield," Elloris taunted a knowing glint in his eye.

Remy's gaze was unflinching refusing to be chastised by a lower thief, "Dey probably coulda caught y' by now Ray, but if dey want sloppy work dey'll just use one of deir own," Gambit retorted.

Elloris's expression closed down farther tightly knit eyebrows emphasizing a too sharp nose.  "Let's get this over with LeBeau."

"I've been waitin', what's Tante's message?"

"Basically that's she's on your side.  Mattie's been working on Henri, but he hasn't budged from his original position.  Shield isn't too likely to terminate your contract any time soon either, so she's working on the Xavier problem.  It's true that he adopted you?" Raymond asked.

Gambit gave a scant nod staring over Ray's shoulder as he spoke, making sure no one had wandered into hearing range, "Oui."

"Since you're not legally an adult yet," Raymond began his own smirk covering his face before he grew serious, " you have to live with Xavier.  If you filed for early emancipation, I think it'd end up a stalemate between the judges we bribe and the ones the government can pressure.  So Mattie decided to go the long way around it.  You staying at Xavier's hinges on when you turn eighteen. Jean Luc just made up a date for your birthday,  it can be changed easily enough, get you out a little sooner."

"So dats de plan?  Do y' know how many copies of dat t'ing are probably lying around by now, dey'll know if I switch it," Remy argued.

"Mattie's made a lot of friends over the years, I hope you appreciate the kind of trouble she's going to.  She's got a crew of thieves working on this, not to mention hackers.  She'll take care of the majority of them, even the ones at Shield.  The only copy you have to worry about is the one from the mansion you're staying at."

The red haired teen warmed to the idea, "An' bout how long y' t'ink dis is gonna take?"

"Don't know, I'm not involved any past this point, just delivering the message, but it'd be less than the year you have now," Ray commented giving Gambit an appraising stare before getting to his feet.  

Remy watched the man leave in high spirits, not particularly liking the man, but enjoying what he had brought, hope.  Mattie hadn't abandoned him as he'd feared, she might not be readily available, but she was looking out for him.  The red haired teen threw his arm over the back of the booth the first honest smile he'd had in days blooming.  The flash of white teeth garnered the interest of several women in the room and the smile unconsciously grew brighter.  He had to realize his former life was officially out of his reach, and he couldn't afford to grieve for it's existence any longer.  He'd start anew, with or without the sanctioned support of the Guilds, once he dealt with the pesky issues of Shield and Xavier that is. 

A/N: To cheers and jeers here is your long winded explanation—Rogue isn't in Distraught and I currently have no plans of adding her to the cast. There was a short-lived splinter plot where Rogue was added (not as a love interest) brought on by requests for her character.  However including her changed Remy's character more than I liked, also having the undesired effect of creating an ending, while interesting was a little too lengthy for my tastes.  And honestly, one of my starting goals for writing this fic was having it be non-Rogue. Okay that's it, I didn't tally the requests so I'm not sure whether I should apologize or not, but—no Rogue!

Giant thanks to everyone who reviewed!! Continuing reviewers and (many) new, it's much appreciated. 

Acadian Angel, Aethena, Aldrean Treu Peri, Alhandra, Azurielle, BJ, brattax23, brazos, Bronny, Calsun, Carla, Dark Elf, deb, Elanor, Elfsong, Equinox, Girlonthem00n,  Ishandahalf, Jebrylla, Jinni, Jo the Phoenix, kaosda, KCbakeneko, Kismet Noelani, Kizmet, Ladine, LadyLyte, Lafayette, lindsay, LotusPen, Love and Justice, Lynn, Mad Alice, Nari, Neko, neoxer, Neurotic Temptress, out-foxed, Quarter Moon, Rads: full name Radicals, Rae, Rehsh, Rekka s Girl, Robin, Rogue Elf, Rupeshwari, samson, Sailor Wade, shade, Shinigami-chan, Silent, smeg, Sophia, tamara, Trendwest, trouble, Wezlar,  WildfireFriendship,Willow,wolfclan_88


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men or Shield, any related subjects belong to Marvel.  **

"Where exactly is dis place?" questioned the black garbed thief lightly fingering the blueprints laid out on the metal table.  Seated around the large conference room aboard the helicarrier was a trio of Colonel Fury, Gambit, and a man with a light complexion and the beginnings of a receding hairline in his carroty hair whom had been introduced as Agent Henning.

"That's need to know," Fury said stoically not unfamiliar with giving that response.

"Let m' guess, I don' need t' know?" asked Gambit lips curling contemptuously.  He'd escaped the expected lectures from the Xavier community at Shield's timely arrival earlier that morning, and despite his enhanced metabolism was still wishing he'd gotten a few hours of sleep before their demands on his time began.

"And they say freelancers aren't intelligent," filled in Agent Henning his dour expression unchanged, not one to encourage any appropriation that wasn't accomplished through government agents. 

"Is dis buildin' even in de US?" queried the thief unused to the runaround he was receiving during what was supposed to be his briefing.  The silence that answered his question prompted the young Cajun to speak again his voice grating, "If I have dis straight, y' want m' to break into a seven story buildin' wit enough security t' choke a horse, mais y' won't tell m' where, why, or what I'm pickin' up.  Dat don' sound like de best position t' be in."

"Gambit," replied Fury, "You know the arrangement; I don't think I have to waste time here passing around threats.  Just do this job and vacation at the Institute for a few days.  You don't need to worry about the whys."

"Humor m'," asked the teen not appeased in any manner, "It might be jus' a tad harder t' steal what y' want me t' steal if y' don' tell m' what it be."

"That's where Agent Henning comes in," said Colonel Fury gesturing to the already seated agent hands folded calmly upon the tabletop.  "You'll be taking the agent along with you.  All you're required to do is gain him entrance into the building, and he'll retrieve the package."

"Excuse moi?  Gambit don' work like dat.  Every time y' add a body y' add risk s' stupid t' take two people.  Jus' tell m' what I'm looking for, I don' need extra baggage," Remy countered sizing up the fit but nearly middle aged agent across the table.

"This assignment may not officially exist Gambit but after almost thirty years in service I think I understand the government's desires fairly well.  I don't think our government or the American people would want the retrieval of sensitive information to be entirely in your hands," Fury announced eyeing the youth rapidly tiring of the mediator position that had been thrust upon him.

"M' sure not," Gambit agreed sneering returning his stare to the plans once more as he'd done several times during the last few hours, "Dese blueprints ain't complete, de two upper floors are de only ones wit any detail, and de underground levels ain't even sketched out de whole way. Dere's too many holes in dis, too many unknowns t' try a snatch.  Y'd have t' figure some o' dis onsite, y' standin' still too long waitin'," Gambit argued.

"This assignment is not a suggestion," Fury returned unaffected. "No one likes this situation, just finish the job," he said forcefully, tucking away the assignment briefs.  "Finish suiting up and throw on the rest of your equipment, chopper leaves in twenty."

Gambit's eyes sparked as they followed the figure out of the room, rubbing his tongue roughly under the top row of his teeth feeling the canines biting in, the tingling sensation distracting him from speaking further. The young thief didn't enjoy enacting the role of trick pony for the government or anyone else.  But the quicker he finished this job, the less time he spent with Shield and the aggravating presence of suited men boasting analyzing stares forever following in his wake.  He knew some were behavorialists who were evaluating him, searching for clues that he'd purposely fail the mission. The Cajun was tempted to do so, but regardless of his distaste for his current position he wasn't willing to do anything more to worsen the precarious arrangement he was in, at least not yet.  Remy pushed away his chair, stretching upwards stiffly. 

He waited a moment as the pair exited to the corridor ripping out the transmitter he had felt in the lining of the modified, insignia free uniform Shield had provided.   The auburn tressed mutant shouldn't have expected anything less from Shield, scoffing angrily at their conceit to think he wouldn't find the barely concealed device.

The dark uniform wrapped around muscular figure was unsettling, not only the associations it entailed but the design itself.  A far cry from his Guild uniform, entirely black and stream-lined while possessing enough pockets to hide the numerous tools he might need.  Unfortunately unlike his Guild uniform, it was deprived of any type of armor.  In successful heists armor wasn't needed, the pinch wouldn't be discovered until he was long gone.  Gambit had always found it a comforting weight nonetheless.  Standing slowly stifled discontent wavering underneath his features the crimson eyed thief joined the waiting Henning.

"How many?" asked Gambit coolly schooling his features, cocking his head sideways at the older man.  While he'd never admit it, Remy had never taken a heist with so little information beforehand.  The actual heist while thrilling took a much shorter amount of time compared to the extended effort of preparation.  The patchwork plan that had been formulated did not comprise the Cajun holding the deciding opinion.  A detail that set the generally well prepared thief's nerves twitching, the jagged edges jangling obscurely. 

Agent Henning for his part didn't need to ask Gambit what his comment had meant, though not usually on the same side of the law they shared a similar profession simply under different titles. "This will be the third attempt on this building, four deaths so far," Henning replied his voice unburdened by emotion.  The mutant thief acknowledged the information but didn't return any vocalization, his personality submerging marginally an automatic task as his focus narrowed on the heist.  

"Dis place be locked up pretty tight f' an office buildin'," Gambit sent out questioningly his quiet voice carrying to his unwanted partner beside him.  Laying prone on their stomachs the pair gazed down from a slightly taller neighboring building reassessing before their attempt to gain entrance.

 "The location was chosen for cover more than anything, our friends know the government can't come after them directly so they built here in the middle of a metropolis.  The building looks fairly unassuming, as to not alert the public, but it was designed to keep people like us out," Henning said in undertone scanning the bleak edifice.

"Direc'ly?" asked the lithe black-ensconced teen luminescent crimson pupils roaming over to the agent.  Henning weaved his gloved hands together briefly before ripping them apart in slow motion. "Bomb?"

"Missiles, same thing.  It's messy, but it keeps our body count down," said Henning.  "Building smack in the center of the city, it's not an option," he continued shifting slightly on the tarred roof.  "Which is why we're here," he mumbled under his breath. 

The brickwork building itself wasn't particularly intimidating, but the surrounding area was.  A heavy chain link fence surrounded the dark red exterior, glittering coils of barbed wire adorning added an extra foot of height to the fence.  The rest of the structure continued in a similar vein, the grounds saturated with cameras and guards.  A tight patrol negated any entrance through the front, rifles sites sweeping the grounds intermittently. 

The plan that had been devised entailed evasion of the guards, access through basement windows, then carrying themselves up to the correct level. Upon inspection that like many other features of the grounds had been altered since the last botched op.  The ground floor windows were under bulky wire mesh that was too thick for the intricate tools they had brought.  This job was finesse, destroying windows for an entrance would draw more attention than was appreciable.

Gambit was young for a Guild thief, younger still when compared to the American officer next to him, but he was equally experienced if not more and his appraising eye revealed more than his detached expression conveyed.  The building's security measures before them carried only a slight resemblance to the ones that he had been briefed upon.  It was possible and probable that the owners had altered and updated security especially considering it had nearly been infiltrated twice.

It was tempting to simply bypass all the security with his charms, it would be so easy to wrap the personnel in a haze and acquire the target, altering the tapes from the security cameras once he finished.  Following that course it would be one of the quickest heists he'd ever accomplished.  Unfortunately through tradition and practicality Guild law prohibited him from taking such an action. Obvious use of mutant powers would leave an easily recognizable trail.  However, when taking recent events into account being detected by the authorities wasn't as large of a concern as previously.

"De roof," Gambit finally announced running a quick inventory on the tool kit he'd arranged.

"The cornice stones and the rest of the edging has pressure sensors, in case you've forgotten," Agent Henning replied sarcastically, "You'd never secure a line over there without detection."

"Good t'ing I don' have to," the teen said seriously nudging his head in the direction of the flagpole that hung off from the building the pair was situated.

"All of the sudden you think you're Spider-Man?  I was briefed on your mutant abilities and they don't include flight. You'll never make a clean jump from here, we're too far away.  That's why it was ignored that as an entry-point from the start," Henning argued.  "Think it through, even if you make it how am I supposed to follow you over?"

"Den what's y'r bright idea?" the teen snapped out aware their options were scarce, there were simply too many guards to try any other point of entry, the roof was the only area devoid of their presence.  Remy's shoulder muscles tensed at Henning's opposition, suddenly glad he hadn't deigned to tell Henning of the rather complex laser grid that lanced the rooftop.

Henning spared a moment to gather his composure before answering, "Obviously our original tactic isn't possible.  We create a diversion, and make our way over the fence while the majority of the guards are distracted. There's a side door on the south-side, we might be able to crack through the codes before a guard spots us."

"Oui I remember, dats what de second group did, non? Dat worked real well f' dem," the mutant thief replied snidely knowing the dismal fate of those men.  Henning's head shot up in anger, but Gambit overrode him, "Y' objective ain't possible y'r way.  Y' want it done, listen t' Gambit.  What's de point of havin' a Guild  t'ief on y' side, if y' don' listen?" 

Agent Henning quieted his harsh breathing hoping their strengthening voices hadn't alerted any of the guards below, "Fine," he relented edging out his communicator, "let me call it in first maybe I can get authorization to send you in alone."  The dark gloved hand of the teenaged thief snaked out and took ahold of the device,

"We don' have time f' dis, understand?" the young thief asked adding a strong undercurrent of charm to his statement, allowing himself to bend his own set of rules slightly.  The longer they remained in a relatively open space, the higher the chances of discovery became.  Henning let his grip on the communicator loosen and Gambit pried it from the agent's hands gently letting his mutant eyes lock with the elder man's, sensitive pupils full glittering faintly in the muted light.

"What's de target?" asked the red-haired thief quietly keeping both their figures low to the ground.

"A disk stolen from what was supposed to be a secure facility in Nevada.  A reliable informant alerted us to the disks location, it's supposed to be located in one of the executive offices, fifth floor. It's about two inches in diameter, gold tinted," Henning continued lazily.

 "What's on it dats worth all dis trouble?" the agile mutant questioned holding his charm in a tight pattern as to not interfere with his own focus.

"Weapons Intel."

"Dat all y' know?" Gambit asked disbelieving threads of anger coloring his tone.

"That's all I'm required to know," came the even reply.

Deciding to leave the questionable use of need to know operations behind satisfied he had an obtainable objective the young mutant thief moved away from the bemused agent.  Crouching under the low lip of the wall which they had been concealing their outlines he continued a silent count of the guards' rotation he'd memorized.  The red haired mutant was surprised at the meager amount of information that Henning had been given.  Under normal circumstances the thief would never attempt a heist with as little information on the subject as Henning had been given; and the Cajun wondered what Shield would be willing to throw him into alone if that was how they regularly treated one of their own agents.

A casual glance back towards the temporarily sedate Henning and Gambit vaulted into the air sticking a decisive landing on the flagpole, using a sudden blare of a car horn to mask the noise.  It rebounded harshly and the thief expertly held his balance as it slung him upwards. Remy leapt at the apex of the arc, adding his own strength to the poles momentum.   With his height and the distance from the other building the mutant teen should never have been able to make the maneuver.  Then again, he'd always been told he was lighter than he should be. A fact he was again grateful for sliding through the air near silently landing in a cat-like stance, his nose mere inches from a beam.

The young Cajun carefully drew his contorted limbs back into position, disinclined to calculate the odds of him failing the jump, or even what the results might have been had he been wearing his favorite duster as opposed to the form-fitting black outfit he'd been supplied.

His unique eyes had picked up on the existence of the lasers as easily as they'd penetrated the darkness of the night.  Remy stole his way through the grid quickly, ducking, stretching and bending his supple form in ways no human being would be able through the narrow openings available hyper-aware that one misstep would result in a messy ending.

In the midst of one bound the young thief glanced down a just the right moment to spot a small thin wire that ran crossways over a portion of the roof.  A trip-wire he was a few scant seconds from landing on.  A fierce wrench of his lissome frame and the teen flew through the last set of lasers blind, an abrupt landing almost slamming himself into the lone access door.  The soft skid of his boots against the tar stilled him, but seven stories up combined with the echoing sounds of the city surrounding none seemed to hear.

The security pad that held the thick metal door closed was one aspect the young thief had come prepared for.  A slender black pad was inserted into the door's mechanism the keypad blinking lightly, stuttering for a minute before readying its pulse.  The device broadcast an artificial all clear signal to the security system even as the youth thief levered the cover aside with a small inoffensive appearing knife.  Splicing the nest of wires expediently manipulating the keypad control for the desired response, being granted one favor that the system was one which he was familiar.  Gambit shoved the dark gray plastic cover back into position and removed his device, not leaving a solitary mark of his presence as the door closed noiselessly after him.

Keeping to the stairs which he found himself on, the young thief carried himself down a flight on whispering footfalls, his senses sweeping outwards detecting the slightest hint of movement. The swirl of motion to his left was identified as a guard making his rounds and the mutant teen was forced to hold his position, waiting for the man to move on.  The cameras were sparser within the building, the constructors overconfident of their external security force.  Staying within the shadows Remy slunk through the dim corridors. He was without the exact location of the disk, but deeply entrenched thieving and fought for instincts guiding him unwittingly like a gentle tug.

Passing by a multitude of unremarkable doorways the auburn haired thief slowed as he approached the second corner office.  Outwardly it looked no different than the last he had passed, but a niggling feeling informed him he was on the right course.  The lock that kept him from entering was trifling, an insult to his skill.  A simplistic metal lock pick slightly curved at the end appeared in the Cajun thief's hands immediately dispensed to its purpose, the miniscule click of the lock welcome.

The room he found himself in was almost appallingly benign, compulsively structured.  The stark white walls were offset with several wall hangings and paintings of a somber hue.  Fields of lilacs and junipers paired the royal blue carpet to a low purple couch hugging one side of the office.  

The modest desk was a typical modern design of metal and glass that hid nothing from view and was easily dismissed in his search for the diskette.   The office hardly looked used, orderly rows of pens and pencils seeming more of a mock-up.  The only accoutrements on the desk were an undersized phone system and a small smattering of paper in the inbox that when reviewed were of no particular consequence.  The cords that were secured to the legs of the desk bespoke of a missing laptop and the young mutant fervently hoped the disk had not slid out in that manner.  Completing Shield's dirty work wasn't high on his priority list, but the sparse pride he'd been able to maintain was, an unblemished record for solo thefts.

Feeling much as he did earlier in what he refused to label anything other than his transitory room the Guild thief searched the office diligently this time returning each item to its exact location.  The simplistic room had no hidden panels or safes that he had been able to determine, though something in the room remained teasing at the edge of his consciousness.  Sliding to a stop in the middle of the room he let his radiant orbs brush through the room for what he hoped would be the last time.  

Something was out of place; relatively sparse the office was incredibly well kept up.  The desk was almost entirely bereft of paperwork and the magazines that lined the coffee table shared an almost geometrically perfect formation.  Even the paintings hung at precise intervals, balanced flawlessly…except, except for one.

Aware of the time ticking away the young thief prowled toward the center painting. Barely perceptible the middle painting was off by only a few scant degrees.  He had moved the lilac painting to check for a hidden panel an overplayed but occasionally successful tactic.  It was possible he had altered the angle himself, but resetting objects that he'd disturbed into its precise original position was habitual. A mistake of that nature would be blatant and he was certain he hadn't made that mistake.  Despite anything else that he might become Remy was a professional thief, an irrepressible and integral part of his makeup.

Cautiously removing the painting from its mooring the young mutant examined the smooth light brown backing.  Gambit tilted it minutely listening for any telltale scratches of a shifting object.  The disk if it were hidden within would be too slight in weight to tell its existence by feel.  Deciding the risk of disturbing the backing was acceptable Remy brought out his knife once more carefully splitting down the center and peeling back the two halves.  Not terribly surprising the small disk was wedged against the side of the frame, the minor weight throwing off the balance.  Allowing himself a quick grin the red eyed mutant tucked the miniature diskette into one pocket which he had left empty.  Withdrawing a tube of quick dry adhesive Gambit spread a small amount over the ruined paper.  Under any kind of scrutiny it would be visible but he didn't have time to create a workable facsimile.  At the least the pieces wouldn't rustle giving away its mutilated condition immediately.  

Secure in the knowledge that the office was in the exact order in which he found it the young thief ran his hand across the pocket his tight fitting uniform once more reassuring himself the disk was still in place.  A momentary sense of disquiet settled in his stomach and the thief moved out swiftly retracing his steps.  

RENDEZVOUS POINT

"Took you're sweet time Gambit?" stated Henning eyes raking the teen's form unforgivingly.  "Disk, now!" he hissed holding out his outstretched palm, not looking favorably on the realization that he'd somehow been duped and left behind by the young Guild member. A broad returning stretch of white teeth was his only answer as the low pulse from the communicator severed the early morning air.  Grimly Henning answered his strident body language a contrast to the jubilant form of the successful mutant thief.

Henning's conversation consisted of a monotone sequence of yes and no sirs while his gestures became more vehement until the still smirking thief relinquished his prize, gold colored disk winking softly in the dim light.  The triumphant Cajun thief waited until he heard the closing comments before turning his attention to Henning the rush of the heist holding him prisoner.

Henning grabbed the young mutant's arm as he moved off intent on reuniting with their transport. "I'd keep a little of that excitement on hold if I were you," he warned.  Gambit rid himself of the agents restraining grip before replying somewhat exasperated,

"Quoi?"

"You've been volunteered for another assignment."

A/N: Sorry about the wait, I'll spare us both and skip the excuses.  To those who were curious—Remy's relationship possibilities don't look so good, I'm planning to wrap this up fairly soon.  Reviewers-you know you're awesome (and very, very patient) thanks again!!  

Acadian Angel, Aethena, Aldrean Treu Peri, Alhandra, Azurielle, BJ, brattax23, brazos, Bronny, Calsun, Carla, Dark Elf, deb, Elanor, Elfsong, Equinox, fenris-wolf, Gabby, Girlonthem00n,  Ishandahalf, Jebrylla, Jinni, Jo the Phoenix, kaosda, KCbakeneko, keebler-elmo, Kismet Noelani, Kits, Kizmet, Ladine, LadyLyte, Lafayette, lindsay, LizzyTygrestick, LotusPen, Love and Justice, lovelyaceinthehole, Lynn, Mad Alice, Meeyr, Nari, Neko, neoxer, Neurotic Temptress, out-foxed, P-Chan21,Quarter Moon, Rachel, Rads: full name Radicals, Rae, Rehsh, Rekka s Girl, Robin, Rogue Elf, Rupeshwari, samson, Sailor Wade, sall, shade, Shinigami-chan, Silent, smeg, Sophia, sue, tamara, Trendwest, trouble, Tygrestick, Valiowk, Wezlar, WildfireFriendship,Willow, WitchyMitchy, wolfclan_88, X


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men or Shield, any related subjects belong to Marvel.**

Gambit shifted uncomfortably at his damp perch beside one of the largest trees he'd ever had the misfortune to see.  The scent of covering snow something you could almost, but not quite categorize.  Not a wafting scent, but an overwhelming one unperturbed by most human influences.  The only other scent that came close was the distinctive pine aroma filling the air that was so like his father's after shave it almost hurt.  

Whatever wonderment the unfamiliar snow-scape might have possessed for the watcher had long since been crushed.  The red haired teen eased his weight to his right, tilting his head to bring the small rattletrap cabin into view once more.  The roof, what remained of it, was in serious disrepair.  Chunks of the material had been torn off after a bevy of winter storms.  It wouldn't be a refuge to any; mortar fitting the logs had long since eroded away.  The place gave every appearance of being deserted, though it was difficult to tell through the gusts of wind kicking up the fallen snow that accompanied the change in scenery.

Only a few minutes after completing his first assignment for Shield and they'd thrown him another.  The initial glow of a successful theft had ebbed very quickly after that, he'd been anticipating acquiring just a few hours of rest.  Three days awake wasn't something he hadn't done before, but the sleep he'd gotten the days prior hadn't been particularly restful either.  

There had been a few hours in transit where the opportunity presented itself, but the teen hadn't been able to convince his mind to let it's guard down enough for his body to sleep. Twitchy and leaning towards punch-drunk the teen prepared for another theft for Shield.  He gave a scant moment to wonder if Shield would have left him take his last mission if they knew he'd been well on his past inebriation when they picked him up.  He'd even briefly considered declining the next assignment under the pretext of a hangover, but got the feeling that wouldn't have gone over well.

His assignments were offbeat from what he usually practiced, but at least he was working.  It gave him a temporary pass, an out from his life.  And he needed it; at best the last week had been tumultuous, at worst it'd been the nightmare you didn't speak about come to life. 

They'd left straight away for this assignment, the target was assumed to be highly mobile, and had to be reached before the variables shifted again, forcing them to retrace the package.   Squinting over the bright swirls of snow the young thief failed to see what was so urgent.  Than again, experience told him that occasionally the most interesting items were hid in the most innocuous, peculiar places.  

One thing the thief was rapidly tiring of was the horrendous lack of information he was being given.  The objective was all they felt necessary to impart to him, details of the heists were minimal at best, whatever the final results of his work was, he'd probably never know.  Here, he was for the retrieval of a bundle of blueprints which illustrated a secured governmental installation that had been stolen during the previous week. Though the Shield contingent was irritatingly tightlipped the teen had gotten the feeling that the original thief had already sold their bounty and he was being sent after the buyer. Hopefully before the buyer had chance to either utilize or copy the blueprints.  

Work however, wasn't the release it used to be.  He was functioning, he knew he'd made it past the shock era of his pere's death.  He'd been forced to.  But the young Cajun was aware that while the memory of his father's death was mislaid, it was only a temporary diversion.   A thin cover over a still weeping wound.  It could let him focus, let him work, let him function, but in the long run, the wound would only fester.  He had not dealt with that death the way he would have wanted.  But for now, he'd move on, and worry over the consequences later.  Live in the now, past be damned. 

Fighting to keep his skittering thoughts in line, Gambit inched his way further, keeping his eyes hooded against the brilliant glare of the fallen snow.  Not leaving tracks in the soft piles of snow would be an impossibility, or at least a trick with which he wasn't immediately familiar.  For now, the only thing he could do to lessen the stark contrast they made in the deep snow was to try to arrange his steps through the minute openings offered by the tree branches.

The cabin door opened with a faint touch, responding with a low groan from the old wood, hinges not the only thing left unattended.  A frayed blue quilt covered what appeared to be a self-manufactured bed, quality definitely lacking. A small chest of drawers that matched the rustic chair sitting across from the dingy open fireplace were the only features of the one-room dwelling.  

A bundle of papers were set haphazardly on top of the dresser. Skilled fingers opened the documents, scores of views of the same set of blueprints, the same building, every entrance and exit outlined.  Experience told him finding the prints was too easy into the point of ridiculousness.  Paranoia told him it was because the worst was yet to come.  And wisdom told him it was time to leave.  

Rolling the set back into shape before folding them over once more, he stuffed them into an inner pocket of the unmarked uniform. Not for the first and probably not the last wishing for the presence of his duster, slick leather fitting like a second skin multiple pockets homes to weapons and tools both.  As it was, he was down in weaponry, for some reason Shield didn't seem too keen on giving him weapons.  Though it was odd how they had fought to give him a partner on the last run, and they hadn't even hinted on it for this mission.  Maybe they'd wised up, knowing he'd only leave the clueless men behind, or maybe there was something out here they didn't want their men to come up against. 

Shutting the door behind him as quietly as possible, the Cajun darted a few quick glances around cautiously.  He continued the flitting glances a few hundred feet beyond the cabin before he realized what was bothering him.  There was no sound other than what was being created by his own movements.  

He halted suddenly, the soft crunch of the snow ceasing as he stilled.  Crimson pupils scanned the snow covered scene as the wind picked up tousling shoulder-length auburn locks.  The feeling of being watched blossomed and grew, but the landscape remained bereft of anything his senses could discern as human motion.   Back muscles tightened with unease shifting under their cloth cover, but he picked up his feet regardless, starting back toward the waiting helicopter.

A scant undulation of the atmosphere that he almost missed was all the warning he received as the teen spun wildly, unbalanced in the deep snow.   A thick blur of gold and brown filled his vision as he was carried through the air slamming into the ground roughly.  The charged cards that he had prepared slipped from his grasp energy trails streaming out behind them.  The explosions showering him with snow and dirt, muted puffs as the miniature geysers of snow extended upwards.  The miniscule amount of snow that was falling startled, reversing its trajectory before beginning to attempt another descent. 

His breath had left him in a hurry as he impacted with the ground and a strong hand enclosed over his throat preventing him from drawing another.  Gambit fastened his hands unto the pair of arms that held him aloft, valiantly trying to pull the muscled appendages apart. He kicked out with a pair of limber legs, letting his arms hold his weight. The young thief caught purchase once before his attacker drew his body closer as the red eyed mutant dangled.

A low growl brought his vision up from the pinpoint of concentration he'd become trying to twist out of the chest shakingly tight hold.  A pair of golden eyes seemed to contain his entire world, only inches from his own.  The face retreated slightly, the grip on his throat loosened just enough for the young mutant to draw a shaky breath, the tines of the creature's claws feeling as if they'd meet in the middle behind his larynx.

"Hey kid, nice trick," he growled, flashing a set of enlarged canines.  Long yellowed hair tangled crazily down to the man's shoulder.  His dark brown clothes a combination of cotton and indecipherable furs, neither of which appeared to be enough to withstand the cold northern temperatures.  The man was huge, easily seven feet and muscled, the eerie eyes and sharp canines a dead giveaway to his mutant status.  On the defensive, the thief met the penetrating gaze of his mutant attacker, preparing himself for a break in his opponent's scrutiny.  A few feet off the ground he was eye level with the angry mutant.  

"Tell me who sent ya," snarled the larger mutant, "your scents all over my cabin.  I don't like visitors, especially government-bred punks like you." 

"Yeah I got dat," managed a dry throated Gambit, a slight wheeze behind his reply.  Golden eyes narrowing, the burly blonde changed his grip, hurling the thief away with one massive arm.  The auburn mutant attempted to gain control over his hurried departure, not wanting to smack headfirst into the tree that was rapidly overtaking his vision.  Only partially successful his right shoulder took the majority of the hit, the angle, but not the speed of the throw altered.  The jarring impact sent an erupting fire radiating down his arm, the only thing that told him it wasn't dislocated. Taking a moment to breathe as he gathered his feet under himself, Gambit caught the looming visage of the feral mutant entirely too close for his comfort.  

 "Spill your guts kid, or I'll help ya along," he threatened brandishing inch long curved claws, the ever-present growl underlying his speech, the sound reverberating through the quiet woods.  Predator and prey had long since taken their leave upon the entrance of the animalistic mutant.

"Sorry, was I supposed t' know y?" the young thief questioned liltingly, humor lacing his words.  The Cajun struck out quickly scissoring his legs through the ferals, a charged card slipping out to help the process along.  The muscled predator roared as he fell abruptly to the ground, the card's discharge burning through clothing and skin leaving a raw blistered patch. 

"Looks like de situation been reversed neh?" taunted the lithe thief having regained his wind, his bo stick at full extension twirling.  The older man stood quickly and ebony backed eyes widened, watching the recently inflicted wound heal before him, flesh creeping over the wound repairing itself.  The older mutant grinned up at the red eyed mutant before regaining his stance with a throaty chuckle,

"I do tricks too." 

Gambit had a moment of clarity to realize the level had been upped before he was well and truly embroiled in the fight. Taking the initiative, the auburn haired thief rushed forward slamming his bo into the larger mutants foot, shifting his grip quickly to strike the shoulder, every ounce of strength he could gather behind it, bo stick discharges ergs of energy at every blow.  Sensing his opponent off balance the youth struck again, his abdomen strike halted by a clawed hand raking down its length ripping it from his hands angrily. Gambit kept his eye on blonde mutant, not having the luxury of watching the glittering bo's resting place. 

The muscular mutant chuckled eerily and drew the teen in.  Gambit's arm deflected a low blow, returning the favor with a fist to the side of the golden eyed mutant's face, effectiveness hampered by his earlier injury.  The feral shook it off as a minor inconvience grabbing the thief before he could launch his next attack and landed a vicious backhand to the youth leaving him dazed and stumbling backwards.

The next blow came too soon and the youth ducked instinctually, the force of the unfinished attack ruffling his hair back.  A handful of cards were released, giving him the scant moments he needed recompose himself. The majority hit their target, but what little good they did while the wounds healed nearly as soon as they were made.  The youngest LeBeau had noticed the hesitancy of his kinetic power, it was charging slower and with less force than it should.  It was a temporary weakening that the southerner knew would return his powers greater and stronger than before.  That fact held no comfort as the next swipe of the sharpened claws hit high on his thigh. Remy returned with a stiff arm to the collarbone, knowing that in any other person it might have well as snapped it.

Remy slid under the upcoming hit knowing full well he was putting himself at the disadvantage, in this fight the terrain wasn't on his side, the sloppy surface wouldn't support the acrobativeness that he'd ingrained into his fighting style.  Staying upright was probably his best bet, but without taking a few risks, his chance of winning the fight diminished.  

Turning abruptly Gambit came behind the bestial, delivering an elbow to the kidney, even the regenerative mutant had to feel.  Releasing a heady growl of displeasure the animalistic mutant pivoted sharply for a man of his stature grabbing for the elusive form of the thief, hand slipping before claws could sink in.  A successive amount of attacks and the creature drew closer, the glowing cards reducing in frequency, the teen appearing increasingly disheveled as the battle wore on.

Just a moment or two longer, Gambit promised himself.  Rather than bemoaning all the factors on his environment that made a physical confrontation more difficult, he would turn it around, using the relatively unfamiliar terrain to his advantage.  The raggedy haired blonde's attacks drew him ever nearer, a stiff ribcage testament to that fact.  Finally their patterns had taken them underneath the heavily burdened tree limb he'd spotted.  Hoping to pause his opponent for the much needed time the teen executed a string of backhands arms wobbling slightly under the stain of keeping a level under the shifting surface.  

The confused mutant growled, never realizing his fate as the sparkling barrage of cards from the remaining deck streamed towards him angled sharply above.  The resulting sounds of the explosion overwhelmed the warning crack as the thick branch released from it's housing swiftly dropping.  A quick smile drew over the teen's face and he quirked an eyebrow, casting his crimson pupils upwards.  The over muscled mutant was able to glance upwards in time to understand his predicament but not soon enough to alleviate it.  A direct hit to the cranium, the feral mutant was sent slumping, twitching to the turf.  

The momentary victory was only that and Remy made a run for it.  He had the documents he came after, and the numerous injuries he'd accumulated convinced him he didn't need to stay around to end the fight conclusively.  When dealing with someone who could heal so rapidly, it seemed the cards were not in his favor.  Especially considering that his powers had taken the most inopportune time to rejuvenate themselves.  Tapping into his charm wasn't an available option either, the youth wasn't sure if he'd be able to withstand the backlash if he accessed it again.  By itself it wasn't overly strenuous, but coupled with his recent injuries and frequent  use of his charm, being incapacitated in the arms of Shield wasn't something he would consider, even if it won him the fight.  

Refusing to look back, the momentarily lessening of his momentum would easily be enough for the behemoth that he'd left behind to take advantage of.  He ran through the snow, desperate to keep his footing.  The black helicopter he'd left behind came into view, the man waiting inside gestulating hurriedly.  An intimidating roar echoed through the forest shaking the newly fallen snow from its branches.  Gambit felt his stomach lurch at the sound, redoubling his effort to plow his way through the drifts.  

A hand to his damaged side, the youth stumbled before retrieving his stride, breath easing in and out harshly. Doggedly refusing to give up even though his legs protested in time with his shoulder at every step.  Spying the indescript helicopter, the youth almost pitched forward, it was lifting off.  Watching the blades whirl in preparation, Gambit snuck a glance behind and regretted it instantly.  The bestial was after him and entirely too close.

Forcing himself forward and praying to whatever saints had yet to desert him he leapt skidding slightly on the takeoff.  He missed the ledge that he'd been aiming, but after a moment of heart-stilled silence and desperate scrambling he caught the edge of a landing rail.

The helicopter tilted dangerously with the unexpected weight, sending it unto a minor spin before the pilot righted it.  Frantically promising to thank the pilot for his skill, after berating him for taking off in the first place, Remy flexed his arms pulling himself up the shaking helicopter.  He managed to secure his right arm around the rail and was going for the left when a sharp tug and a surprised Cajun lost his grip, the gloves slick against wet rail. 

His right arm remained wrapped around the rail tenaciously as his body slipping back down the side as the additional weight ripped muscle tissue flagrantly. The blonde scourge grinned up at him, mouth showcasing his paired fangs as he clung to his left leg, attempting to use the thief as a human ladder.  

Alerted to the danger the pilot had begun swooping in the air trying to shake off the hitchhiker, high enough to prevent smashing into the treetops, and much too high to survive a fall.  The Shield agent within the copter had taken it upon himself as well, the idiot brandished his weapon trying to hit the latest hanger-on.  The shot unsurprisingly missed its target with another swoop of the helicopter, and Gambit swore he felt it whip past his ear.

Sending a disgusted look toward the officer would have been a waste of time, so the teen groped around in his pockets for a few stray cards.  He had absolutely none, his former coat carried nearly eight packs, and even the uniform he'd had from Shield had carried  four, but the cold-weather suit he'd been saddled with only had a few pockets and he had only been able to bring a singular pack. All of which had been used in his latest battle.   He'd have happily replaced some of the other provisions with those very tractable weapons but hadn't really been in a situation to refurnish them.  

Groping hand catching on a flimsy bits of paper, the thief ripped the packet out of his pockets, time was not a quantity he had an abundance of.  The blueprints were charged with only momentary indecision, he would come back with nothing for his trouble.  Though he'd have his life, and the lives of the two men in the helicopter.  

The mutant youth held it out from his body, exciting the molecules as fast as he could manage, dredging up the remainder of his power.  The resulting bright red and orange light coated the sky, standing out like a beacon, an impossibly low star to anyone on the ground looking up, or perhaps an errant wisp of the aurora borealis.  

A hurried pitch and the crumpled papers flew down, sweat trickling down his the side of his face as he watched.  It drifted, not the precise accuracy he could accomplish with his regular cards.  The thief's eyes widened at the same instant the glowing projectile did, missing its target.  He felt the grip on his leg tighten, and his heart hammered back into being, making up for lost time. Another shot echoed past in the same instant, this time he didn't even flinch.  The pilot dived sharply, and Gambit opened his eyes as his stomach flopped again, unaware he'd closed them.  All the feeling had left his arm long ago, but he'd had enough feeling left to grin manically at the upcoming monster. 

The dive, incidental or not had brought the feral mutant right in line with the still falling projectile that the Cajun had released.  The impact was monstrous, hitting the oversized mutant square on the back.  He roared in surprise as the vestiges of his back spattered behind him.  Unwittingly he released his grip on the red haired thief, raking his claws down and around the leg as he passed underneath the copter projected by the blasts force.

Gambit choked somewhere between a gasp and a scream as the long claws ripped through his flesh, desperately trying to maintain any kind of a grip while the helicopter spun wildly in the backlash of an explosion of his own making.  There were a few dizzying moments when he felt his arm let go of the rail, the accompanying officer's sudden grip on his abused arm the only thing that safeguarded his life. 

The red haired youth was arduously pulled on board, where both figures collapsed in exhaustion, one a little more warranted than the other.  The pilot kept screaming back until the officer answered him wearily, the words lost to the overrun, overworked, and worked over thief.  He slumped against the seats, head back gritting his teeth against the razor sensation of the claws cutting through his skin.  Listening to the ranting of the agent over the loss of their target acquisition as he probed the wound before applying pressure.  He'd need stitches, the parallel lines of claw marks wandered around his calf, the scant gap between the preventing it from being a macabre parody of a tattoo. 

Now he'd have to head back unto the unwanted embrace of Shield, or perhaps even worse, the overzealous protection of Xavier's crew.  Definitely not to the beckoning golden warmth of his native New Orleans.  But none of those particular concerns were forefront in his mind, muttering gone unheard under the drone of the blades, 

"Merde dat stings."

A/N:  Reviewers many thanks for contributing, next chapter: X-mansion. For the inquiring mind-- this is a stand alone story. With the new naming system for authors, I probably don't have the correct title for everyone, but I'll try to have it fixed by next post.  Happy belated birthday brazos!

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	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men or Shield, any related subjects belong to Marvel.  **

"I'm surprised I did not find you on the roof," a soft African voice called out reaching the mess of rocks bordering the Institute's pond. Upon one of the more sizable rocks an extended figure wrapped in blue jeans and dark jacket turned toward her, startling crimson eyes opening slowly. He offered no hint of surprise at her entrance; indeed she was sure he was aware of her presence long before she of his.  

Remy leisurely pulled himself in a seating position tugging on the black leather of the coat he had not yet made the time to return, scooting over to make room for the weather goddess.  The thief regarded her steadily, "Too easy t' find m' dere."

A small smile, "I suppose so, though I would wonder from whom you are hiding," she replied somewhat dryly reminding herself to take care and temper her words.  Conversations with Gambit were often a trying experience.  Though she should probably be pleased he deigned to continue conversing at all, the rest of the Institute's inhabitants were completely out of the realm of his attention.  

Remy returned from his assignments brimming with the post-heist exuberance she dimly remembered from her days of a thief, but it was short lived. His mood and temper crashed the moment the adrenaline faded away, leaving him to trail through the mansion alternatively exhibiting bitter anger or a deep and icy melancholy depending upon his audience.

Occasionally she would catch glimpses of his formerly gentile nature Jean Luc had so often boasted of.  It saddened her to note that his effervescent spirit had been polluted, oppressed into submission by a greater force.  Despite his denials, Remy had not finished grieving for his adoptive father. He had gone part-way through the process and halted for reasons unknown, afraid or unable to go any farther.

 "How is your leg is faring?"  Storm questioned disturbing her internal dialogue, nodding a chin delicately towards the offending limb. Gambit quirked an eyebrow in response, gaze traveling from the sight of the rippling pond to give her a half-lidded glance of his own.

"'S fine, jus' like it was de last time y' asked," the thief replied with something tugged close to a genuine laugh.  

"Is it a crime to be concerned with your welfare?" Ororo asked, her mouth tilting upwards before turning grave, "Sabretooth is indeed a veritable opponent, not one to be taken lightly…" Storm demurred as the teen seemed to drop interest quickly at the mention of his part-time occupation.  

Gambit shook his reddish hair so it hung over his eyes shading taunt and tanned features.  After a short stint in Shield's version of a MASH unit they'd stitched up the violent gashes in his leg and he'd been unceremoniously dropped off at the Xavier mansion.  Shield was less than delighted with that particular assignment. He had completed the objective, recapturing the stolen blueprints, but he had also destroyed them leaving no physical evidence that he had obtained them.  And of course, they were not readily prepared to take the word of a juvenile thief, no matter what his history.  

Shields own failure to mention the inclusion of a furious mutant into the mix had caused Gambit to grant them a few choice words.  They had systematically refused to divulge the identity of the mutant but that riddle had been quickly solved by the X-Men.  Or rather Wolverine, who tried to stake him through the wall for smelling like Sabretooth.   The recently stitched wounds had given their own tale and the smaller feral had backed off, but not without his share of threats for the thief.  It was also at that point when the disgruntled Cajun decided the less contact with ferals the better off he would be.   

More upsetting in the youth's thoughts was the burgeoning camaraderie he had gained with Storm.  She was almost always found nearby in his calmer moments, but the thief was hesitant to make any lasting friendships, especially as he didn't plan on an extended stay.  Cracking into communications center at the Institute hadn't been as hard as it sounded; locks however advanced were not that difficult if one had the proper experience. Especially when said experience was coupled with a selection of pilfered items from the tech room.  Whoever was in charge was not exactly in the forefront of organizational skills, never noticing that a few disks and tools had wandered off from their jumbled positions.   

The amount of files located on the Institute's hard drive was choking, but the computer files were easily corrupted from a computer within their network. The only real challenge had been locating Xavier's safe for the paper copies. At least his forgery skills were up to par.  The whole plan however, was cruxed on no one being nosy enough to regularly sort through the documents and notice the corrections he had made.

Gambit planned to have a have a day or so at the mansion to finish off the niggling loose ends and take his leave.  Technically he was still under contract with Shield.  But living his life like as it was now, the free-spirited youth couldn't contemplate an existence such as this, not indefinitely.  There was the scant possibility that Shield would attempt to imprison him again when he left, but they'd find the task suitably daunting should they try.  He could set up a contact with Shield, show up for assignments and disappear. It would be difficult but not impossible for a Master Thief.

"Remy?" Storm spoke interrupting his less than beneficial ruminations.

"Quoi?" he asked soberly, face solemn.

"You looked, very far away," she said concern evident in her blue gaze, her statement questioning.

The teen exhaled a low breath of air his stare locked onto the shimmering edge of the pond where it met its stone enclosure.  Storm cocked her head to the side before answering her unvoiced query, "Shield," she ventured, or Jean Luc?  I do not make any pretenses of whole-heartedly trusting the government, but I have known Fury to be a reasonable individual. As for Jean Luc-"

Gambit cut her off before they could begin that conversation anew, they always spoke in circles.  The pair was equally set in their opinions, Henri was right about his own culpability, Storm just couldn't see it.  His sour mood gained, he was not particularly in the right frame of mind to speak about Shield, but it was favorable to the alternative. 

 "Y' really put any trust in dat bunch of blue-coated rejects Storm?  Dey'll use me till dey decide I know too much an' try t' shut m' away.  Or if I'm really lucky dey'll finally send me on another mission when dose missing details deir so fond of become really damn important, an' I won' make it back a' tall."

Storm was momentarily startled at the abrupt bitterness injected in his words, "That is a rather pessimistic view of your situation Remy.  Surely you do not believe that to be true?"

Gambit didn't reply but started rifling through his pockets either for cards or cigarettes she was unsure, but grasped one of his hands drawing his attention and stilling the somewhat jerky movements.

"Remy, I know you have your…reservations about the X-Men, but should it come down to the situation you have described they would be there for you.  I would be there for you."

"Y' so sure of deir motives Ororo?"  Storm let go of his hand to flick a loose strand out of his face in a sisterly fashion.

"I am.  And they are nothing other than just, I would not remain here if I did not believe it was so.  You may not believe this but there are people here who care for you and would not see you harmed, despite your best efforts to the contrary.  These same people could be great friends if you would only let them."  

Gambit unable to hold her clear gaze any longer dropped his head rolling under his lip before daring glancing up again.  She didn't understand him, for the small things maybe, but for this…how could she expect him to give up his life for the X-Men?  It hadn't been stated verbatim, but the general feeling he received was that were to agree to join the X-Men his problems with Shield would vanish.  It felt a little too much like blackmail for his tastes, besides which they failed to recognize how deeply Henri and the Guild were entangled in his situation.  Gambit couldn't risk working against his Guild Master directly, but he could carefully extract himself from the net by way of misdirection and technicalities.  

"Mebbe," Gambit managed stiffly, "See y' round Storm," simply not wanting to argue with the one person at the mansion he shared a tentative kinship. The thief landed lithely as he slid off the weighty boulder giving her a twisted smile in parting.

Waves of ice blonde hair rippled as Storm shook her head in agitation following the youth thief down.  She wanted to be a proper friend to Gambit enough that it ached.  Initially she felt assisting him with his escape had been the correct action to take. Although once learning of Henri LeBeau's attitude and decisions she reversed her position.  The Institute had helped many; she believed it could do the same for him as well.  Remy clung to the belief that he was alone, not yet ready to open his eyes and see the circle of like-experienced people waiting patiently for him to come around.

The teens steps led him back towards the mansion, crunching into the gravel through the garage entrance. Gambit remained somber, unassuaged by the windriders speech of friendship and protection.  Her words drifted and swirled about him, but did not have the strength necessary to penetrate the haze that enveloped his thoughts. He spotted a few students milling about and the cold countenance he'd been keeping draped into place with disturbing ease.

With his nearing departure he longed for action and the bright precision it brought.  Lack of sleep ragged his nerves mucking his senses, but he'd labored well past the point where sleep would come easily.  The miniscule amounts of rest he did manage were interrupted often, dimly waking on several occasions. No sweat nor tussled clothes to telltale a nightmare, but the unease was there just the same.  

The sweet siren of the city pulled at him as his appraising look settled on rows of familiar vehicles.  It wasn't his city whose call he could answer, but he had always been more at home communing with city streets than with nature.  Spying the human ice cube gallivanting around in the dim lighting he dismissed his sought desires letting them slither away resentfully.  The Cajun-borne mutant might have been able to pull one over on the blonde mutant, but he looked like a squealer.

"Hey Red, howsit going?" asked Logan plopping down in the kitchen stool nearest Jean Grey.  The telekinetic in a lengthy gray skirt and matching v-neck top sat neatly to the side of the blue tiled countertop. Busily rearranging the halls recently delivered floral arrangements.

"Mm, alright" she replied discontentedly tilting her head slightly, "I try to think about something other than Gambit--teaching classes, grading papers, my labs, Scott…but I can't get away from it.  It still feels, unsettled here at the mansion.  Plus everyone else is thinking about it, so I almost can't help it," she replied wryly flopping a Gerber daisy unto the counter, drips of water dotting the table. 

A gruff acknowledgement and a bob of the head came from Logan, "I'll agree with ya there Jeannie, that's all anybody seems to be talking since he got back, believe me I know," he replied roughly gesturing toward his overly sensitive ears.

"Well I wouldn't expect anything different from this crew," Jean replied tearing into an ungainly clump of foliage, "anything of interest to pass along?"

"Aren't ya supposed ta be the 'path?"

"A simple yes or no would do Logan," she replied primly.  Everyone was worried, or would be offended should she pry, or even glance at thoughts they broadcast.  Yet they always assumed she should know exactly what was circulating in their heads.  At least Logan's comment had been more along the lines of teasing.  He didn't expect to have her complete and total attention either, which was just as well as she was lending a sympathetic but wary ear to Ororo while relaying pertinent bits of her conversations to Scott via her links.

Wolverine rolled his eyes good naturedly before settling down more firmly, boots clanking against the side of the island as he rearranged his limbs.  He'd be glad when this sudden fascination with the thief would dissipate; in fact he was all for shedding 150 pounds of Cajun. While Logan didn't actually agree with all of Shield's tactics, or timing for that matter, he had issues with unrepentant criminals. 

"Nothing concrete enough to tell Chuck about, but I heard Shield's little buddies ain't exactly tickled pink with the results of their experiment so far."

"Why are they complaining? As I understood it his missions were successful," spoke Jean furrowing her brow as intelligent green eyes shifted back to the Canadian.

"Come on Red," he started draping an arm over her chair leaning in slightly, "He ditched the first 'partner' they gave him messed with the guys head.  And then on the second, well they're not so sure the prints blew.  They don't think they can trust him, and I'd say they'd be stupid if they did. They're worried he'll throw the missions."

"That's ridiculous," scoffed Jean rapidly disassembling the floral masterpiece.  "If that was really a concern, they should have thought of it before they ever sent him on the first mission.  But if that's what they choose to believe, I won't stop them.  Then they can leave Remy with people who actually stand a chance to help him.  Continuing in that line of work won't be doing him any favors."

"They're not just gonna scrap the whole idea and sign 'em over, they'll work a way to get their satisfaction one way or another.  Heck that just might be their plan, let the kid screw up and then try for something a little more drastic.  Been whispers of a new government run team called X-Factor, heard of it?"

"I haven't," Jean admitted cautiously Cyclops's sudden mental presence adding a fair amount of suspicion to her words, all too familiar with the unfavorable results of mixing government and mutants.

"Ain't much to know just yet, but what I do know, I wish I didn't.  I'd keep this quiet until I know fer sure, don't wanna rile anybody up just yet. It'll happen soon enough if they try to force the kid into that team.  This whole shebang is gonna come to a head soon and it ain't gonna be pretty."

"Meaning?"

"Lightening in a bottle Jean…cept' this time yer fightin' someone else for control, and the lightning's pretty pissed too."

Remy started down the carpeted stairs with fluid steps curving down to the foyer, newly foisted package of cigarettes having found their way into his possession.  One of the slightly more grave mutants in residence appeared at the bottom of the steps and the youth entertained the notion of retreating from whence he came.  Not at all in the mood for another lecture nor pep talk from the man.  His stoic gait bore no resemblance to the indecision of his thoughts as he continued his descent. 

"Hey Gambit," Cyclops called amicably, an unidentified tone coloring his speech. Gambit answered the greeting with a flicking glance of coal and crimson orbs in the man's general direction intending to breeze past.  Anticipating the much practiced avoidance tactic Scott maneuvered in front of the youth preventing the action but refrained from grabbing ahold of a limb as he might with another student, striving to remain non-threatening.

"Do you remember your schedule?" asked Cyclops explaining further observing the unenlightened expression on the youth, "that square of paper we gave you with all your classes on it?"

"Oui," Gambit replied uninterested, the offending material was pitched as soon as it had been given.  He had been through enough schooling for his lifetime, which was mostly a waste, he hadn't needed a good portion of his education to rob a museum blind.   

"Really?  Well you just missed one," Scott commented with a rare trace of dry humor gesturing over his shoulder. "Actually you've never gone to any of them.  And you refused to participate in the Danger Room exercise."

"So sorry Summers," the teen replied in purr a thin smile on his lips, "but Gambit don' take kindly t' being locked in t' a room an' being forced t' fight.  Got nuff of dat shit wit Shield."

"Gambit it's training," Cyclops replied with a small frown.  He had made valiant attempts to connect with the Cajun but it was difficult footing at best.  Cyclops often found himself straining to remain affable in the face of a rather impressive array of irritating behaviors the southern-borne teen had at his disposal.  

"Look Remy," a pause, "I'm simply concerned about what you're doing in your spare time," asked Cyclops the strain of honesty in his voice not overly accustomed to constant explanations of his own behavior.

Gambit's mutagenic eyes scanned the pinched features of the X-Man with suspicion wondering if Summers had been alluding to his extracurricular activities.  Remy was somewhat relieved to note Cyclops appeared completely clueless to the tampering he'd completed about the mansion. Gambit clapped the slightly taller mutant on the shoulder in passing. 

"T'anks f' y' concern," he replied with a small smile blatantly false, "I'll let y' know when I get bored." 

NEW ORLEANS

A slender New Orleans native, leader of the city's Thieves Guild sat patiently at his desk scooping the contents of a battered olive file into a locked desk drawer filing it amongst the rest.  Henri LeBeau's fingers ran over the colored plastic tabs before stilling, extracting a well worn file after a moment of indecision leaving the drawer gaping open.

He kept one eye on his uploading computer while skimming a file he'd already memorized.  The Cajun cocked his head in the familiar manner that all the LeBeau sons had picked up from their father, studiously re-reading the documents.  Something was off, he fingered the paper between his thumb and forefinger in contemplation.  It looked the same, felt the same, except…  He moved back from the file, closed his eyes and opened them again, eyes unconsciously searching out the imprecision.

Reaching over deftly he picked up his cellular phone, the small bit of technology looking out of place in the classic appeal of the room, regardless of the millions in security equipment that lived beneath the lacquered wood.

A muscled leg tilted the leather chair back, as a series of clicks were followed by the eccentricities of one abysmal and clueless secretary.   The idiosyncrasies and annoyances of maintaining the façade of a lawful business, one such annoyance he did not generally have to bother with.

"Eh," he spoke abruptly in greeting finally getting through, "I need t' know where he gonna be next, an' don' pretend y' don' know who I'm talkin' bout.  Non, not dat school, I ain't travellin' back dere again, won' work."

"Là où?" asked the thief, scrawling down the address on a green tinged notepad bearing his initials, "Merci."

REVIEWERS: Glad you're enjoying thus far, thanks for reviewing. 

Acadian Angel, Aethena, Akutsuin, Aldrean Treu Peri, Alhandra, Amazonestar, Anime-05, Azurielle, BJ2, brattax23, brazos, Bronny, Calsun, Carla-p, CiCi, Dark Elf3, deb, Dumplin', Elfsong, Eliz2k, Equinox, fenris-wolf, Gabby, Gator Bait, Girlonthem00n, Golden Elanor, Hickory, Ingram, Ima Super Mute Ant,  Ishandahalf, Jebrylla, Jinni, Jo the Phoenix, kaosda, KCbakeneko, keebler-elmo, Kismet Noelani, Kits, Kizmet, Ladine, LadyLyte, Lafayette, lindsay, Liv, LizzyTygrestick, LotusPen, Love and Justice, lovelyaceinthehole, lynette, Lynn, Mad Alice, Meeyr, Miss Attitude, nagelic hat, Nari1, Neko, neoxer, Neurotic Temptress, out-foxed, P-Chan211,Quarter Moon, Rachel, Rads: full name Radicals, Rae, Rehsh, Rekka s Girl, Robin, Rogue Elf, Rupeshwari, samson, Sailor Wade, sall, shade, Shinigami-chan, Silent, smeg1, Sophia, sue, tamara, tigressong, toffee, Trendwest, trouble, Tupper, Tygrestick, Valiowk, Wezlar, Wildcard00, WildfireFriendship,Willow, WitchyMitchy, wolfclan_88, Wulfsbayne,  X


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:  I don't own the X-men, Shield, the Guilds or any and all related subjects, personas, characters etc.  they belong to Marvel.  I'm borrowing them with the hope that Marvel isn't petty enough to come after me.**

"Professor?" Storm called out rapping lightly on the oaken door of Xavier's office, her head tilted toward the entryway.

"Enter," the professor returned distractedly barely discernable through the soundproofing.

"I apologize if I am disturbing you Professor.  However the others were worried as none of us had seen you yet this morning."

"Yes, I suppose you might have noticed my absence as Gambit is out on assignment, not here to occupy your free time," Xavier joked mildly, leaning back in his wheelchair a sheaf of papers under his right palm.

Storm smiled slightly cheeks rising in appreciation before her gentle smile lost its tenure. "You disapprove of my spending extra time with Remy?" she questioned curiously.

"No, of course not Ororo," the Professor assured, "though I do wish you'd been slightly more successful in your attempts to win him over." A wry grin accompanied as he handed over a thick sheaf of material he'd been smoothing his hands over in thought.

The former goddess's bright blue eyes dropped from the Professor's to the thick coupling of papers, immediately seeking out the area Xavier had actually taken the time to highlight.  "Professor?" she started, her shock somewhat muted.

"Gambit," the professor said slowly drawing out the name, "appears to have aged a quite a few years in his weeklong absence," referring to his copy of Remy LeBeau's birth certificate which was now attached to Xavier's voided adoption papers.

"It's been forged?" she said quietly her voice not quite a question, setting down the sheets crossing her slender arms across her chest.

"Apparently not," Xavier returned with a small sardonic smile a thumb tracing his own jaw line, "since it was brought to my attention every copy electronic or otherwise that I've accessed reads exactly the same."

"Did you know he was planning this?" asked Xavier steadily.  While he was fairly sure in his assumption that whatever assistance Gambit had been rendered to pull off such a feat had not come from within the Institute, he yet wondered if he'd confided in Storm giving her prior knowledge.  Storm was generally one of his most trusted students, firm and confident in her decisions.  But she had been wavering since Gambit had burst onto the scene, it seemed almost any given day she might have a different view about the young thief's place in the Institute.  Indecision from a former weather goddess was a strange occurrence indeed, though Gambit did appear to have a knack for throwing people off their game.

"No," Storm stated calmly a tinge of sadness and subtle frown upon her face, "he did not tell me."

Xavier locked gazes with Ororo both sets of blue eyes vying for dominance, "And if he had?"

Storm shook her head platinum tresses swaying, "I do not know whether I would have told you," she answered honestly.

Professor Xavier grimaced but nodded his assent, "I had much higher hopes for him, but…" he trailed off, his gaze directed toward his newly replaced window a physical reminder of the teen's explosive temper.

"He has his faults, I will not deny you that.  But despite what he has shown us, I believe Remy is a good person at heart.  He is obviously attempting to withdraw from the Institute, will you attempt to harness him into the Institute once more?"

"Storm," Xavier replied a dark eyebrow curving into forehead, "The last we spoke you were of the mind to help him adjust to living at here at the school.  You've since changed your mind?"

Ororo Monroe tilted her head delicately giving a statuesque but graceful blink before speaking in the vibrant voice that was hers to call, "If you were to take a sparrow with a broken wing from the wild, and put it into a cage to heal…it would not.  Instead it would dash itself to pieces against the bars."

Xavier leaned back in his chair, hands on the chair arms, "Where was this decorous knowledge when he first arrived?" Xavier asked a smile softening his query.

"I was unsure myself," Storm admitted almost wincing, "I wanted him to stay. I had spoken of him for so long with Jean Luc, I had almost felt him a brother though we had never met.  I wanted, very much for this to work out.  But it was not to be, my first instinct was right, I should have contradicted it," the wind rider concluded rousing from her introspection. 

"You need to get a new contractor," Storm stated, harkening back to Xavier's earlier hint, easing out of the conversation and the office before questions of her own behavior were to spring up.  Her eyes trailed to the newly placed slightly more elaborate set of window frames, "he is starting to get greedy."

The professor forced a dry chuckle as Scott sidled into his office barely returning a nod to Ororo as she passed, "Perhaps."

"Why aren't we doing anything about this?" demanded Scott not bothering with a greeting. The first person Xavier had told of his discovery had been Jean with the request that she keep it to herself.  Unfortunately he'd forgotten he was dealing with one half of an engaged couple, one which between healthy senses of honesty and the beginnings of a psychic rapport had precious few secrets between them.

"There's nothing more to do Scott," Xavier said tiredly, a sudden melancholy dropping in on him. "Abiding here has not helped Remy in the slightest, I'd almost say he's worse," the professor commented drolly waving a hand in exasperation.

"Worse how?" asked Scott roughly, "at least he's speaking."

"Which he only did after being given permission from his brother, it was through none of our own efforts.  And when he does speak he is disrespectful, rude and…" Xavier argued.

"Well wouldn't you be too?" stated Cyclops. "Give him a little leeway professor, being rude doesn't mean he's isn't worth saving, if that were true Wolverine would never be allowed past the front gate.  I can see it the potential there professor, can't you?" 

"I have given him as much space as humanely possible, much more than I would have for any other student. Especially considering he arrived at this school as a criminal," Xavier stressed.  "You know the lengths I have gone to, I even adopted the boy in an attempt to keep him out of jail.  But there has been nothing but disruption and chaos since he arrived."

"You're just going to write him off like that," Cyclops scoffed shaking his brown hair back a bit. "You can just adopt Remy and then totally disavow any kinship with him the moment he becomes trouble?"

"I do have a great deal of other students here Scott," stated the Professor a sterner tone entering his voice.  "Entrusted to the school's custody by both their parents and the state, I will not do wrong by their trust and endanger their children. And as for the moment," Xavier said his voice winding up further, leaning forward in his wheelchair his fingertips splayed on his desk, "Indeed it has been quite longer than that.  I put the betterment of this school, these children and mutant population in general before that of one individual that has always been my way."

"Where's he going to live?  Will he be going back to jail?" Cyclops asked gripping a seat arm hanging on to his composure by a tender thread.

"I do not know Scott. I have just spoken with Storm, and I'm sure you'll agree she knows him much better than either of us.  She was somewhat surprised, but did not seem overly concerned.  I very much doubt Gambit would go to such lengths without having a plan of some sort. And if nothing else, Shield still has authority over him, I don't think they'll let him get into too much trouble."

"Professor…" Cyclops broke in again his stubborn nature not laid to rest.

"I was wrong alright Scott! I was wrong to allow Fury to bring him here in the first place," Xavier continued on in a more subdued voice, "As much as we were all waiting for him to change…he is not you Scott.  Some people's lives are destined to lead down certain roads, painful roads.  We can only hope that someday he'll realize his mistake and return of his own violation." 

"And when do you see that being?" The visored mutant asked weary shoulders slumping. He didn't like the ease at which the others were accepting Gambit's alterations to his past, and that no one seemed to care about the effects it would have on his future.  Far too easily they accepted Remy's silent decree to leave.  

A puff of a sigh from Xavier, "Ten years short of never.  Honestly Scott you cannot expect me to have all the answers."  Professor Xavier made a swirling motion with his right hand almost as if physically trying to clear the air between himself and his first student. "It is not my belief that we should attempt any further interference in Remy's life.  We can wish him luck but that is truly the only thing we can do until he is ready to accept our help."  
  


"You've always taught us to rally against what other's saw as fate, if we believed in something enough. And if we wait…if we leave him to Fury, to Shield, to whatever a seventeen year old mutant orphan thinks is best for himself…what if when he comes back it's already too late?"

"Then it would indeed be a tragedy."

PARIS

Gambit pulled in great gulps of air as he raced up the steep steps of the Notre Dame.  A note embedded in his hotel room door courtesy of a slim dagger had brought him to the basilica cathedral in a section of the city now considered to be old Paris. 

But before that, it had been Shield.  Recovery of the long sought L'Etoile du Tricherie, a priceless pendant that had been passing through thief families for generations, no one seeming to be able to hold the valued piece for long.  He had been sent to regain it for the so-called proper authorities.  More undercover work and acting than thieving skills had been involved this time.  He thought it a shame such a treasure was to be returned to its original owner, or rather the heirs of the original owners.  They never appreciated what they had because they had no conception of the amount of effort that went into attaining it.

The girl whom had current possession was Genevieve Darceneaux, an unknowing fence for her cousin. Golden strands of blonde hair curled at her shoulder, a matching set of sparkling blue eyes and a slender form derived more from heritage than exercise made up the Paris native.  The woman, only one or two years his senior had done most of the work for him.  Moving past her in a wayside café she called him over to her table happily enough intrigued by an exotic accent, a bewitching smile and a set of eyes that matched both descriptions.

It would have been mere child's play to lift the jewel that she foolishly wore prominently about her person.  It would have been, had the thief not seen the liquid shadows that hid in and amongst the crowd tailing her, invisible to those outside of his chosen profession.  Whether or not they were members of the Paris Thieves Guild he could not say having only met one or two representatives stateside, but he'd chanced not to try and lift it amongst their presence not wanting to be caught perpetrating a unlicensed theft in their turf.

As such the young mutant had to extend his trip, posing as her love struck beau till he could get closer to her lure it out of her manicured hands in a more private setting. Alone the sleight of hand would go unnoticed by the spying eyes of her entourage.  Gambit did not intend to be caught at his trickery, not with the ever-increasing list of threats that Shield had begun to mete out.

Genevieve herself had more than merrily jumped into his arms, eating up the pretty lies he spun easier than a cat with cream.  Empty heart, empty kisses, it was almost funny how she didn't seem to notice.

Remy felt towards her no love, but the edged blade between jealousy and scorn.  She had a family that was distant to be sure, but one that she never spoke of in anything other than glowing terms.  His elder by a year or better she had a sense of stability and safety. Of course how much of it was reality and how much illusion would soon be unearthed.

And then, the note.  Job finished the mutant thief had gone back to the room his cover provided with the hopeful thought of netting a few hours sleep in a decent hotel before returning.  Stepping out of a lengthy shower a sense of unease drifted with the steam alternatively growing instead of lessening as he approached his own outer door.  The tension only expounded as he discovered a blade embedded in his door attaching a note that while simple still had the power to raise gorge in his throat and cause his stomach to turn. 

Sabretooth had tracked him down to Paris, with him his brother Henri and Genevieve taking the latter two as hostages.  The mutant thief had no way to certify the truth of the statement; his brother shouldn't have been away from the Guild so early in a transition but it was no guarantee.  The brief encounter he'd had with the feral mutant had acquainted the youth with his ferocity.  Remy couldn't afford to gamble, his brother's life meant something although he could not be pressed to say for why.

Gambit had tore out of the hotel faster than he'd thought possible redonning a pair of pale khaki's he'd slung over the chair.  A dark gray cashmere sweater yet musky with the scent of his cologne was disjointedly pulled over his head.  Speed was undoubtedly of the essence and his only concession to such haste was to restock his cache of weapons. Cards and small knives found their way into usually unprefered places of concealment as he fought the city streets en route to his destination.  The Notre Dame Cathedral or the Amiens Cathedral by the locals.  

Remy had wished to approach quietly as his life-long training had dictated, but as the young thief neared, a partial glimpse of Sabretooth atop the roof of the western tower's fascade quickened his steps.  Approaching southeast of the great cathedral Gambit hustled across the footbridge of the Seine River scanse noticing his steps. Well past midnight the last service had been completed and though parts of the city yet thribed the tourists had long since abandoned the twelfth century relic.  Whatever security had once been in place had been dispatched courtesy of Sabretooth no doubt.  The slight worry over the welfare of the missing guards went unheeded as the young mutant raced through the heavy pillar marked hallways and arched moldings.  

A fleeting figure seen but barely heard passed under the legendary crossings of the cathedral where the four great halls met.  An architectural wonder disputed, disparaged, and exulted by men for generations.  Of this the red haired thief saw nothing save the continually shifting patterns of tile as they blurred beneath his feet.

He ricocheted into the turret of stone steps that led up the northern tower nearly three hundred in all narrowing as he ascended the twisting passageway.  Auburn hair partially dried by the wind of his hasty flight hung in his face as he faced down a beast from which he thought he'd earned his reprieve. 

The undersized rooftop boasted a raised portion in the center and trifling black metal guard rail surrounding leaving precious little room for Sabretooth's bulk let alone his two hostages.  Gambit stayed as he was near the entranceway, little maneuvering room and the partial twinge from nearly healed stitches in his leg reminding the thief of how badly he needed that non-existent room.  

Golden eyes glinted as only a primal killer's could, but the feral's vicious claws were otherwise occupied holding two figures aloft a white synthetic rope binding their hands together. Henri LeBeau was clothed in the remnants of a black suit, pants dirtied, jacket helplessly tattered, and the white dress shirt torn open at the collar. Henri had obviously not come quietly but he held a deceptive calm, looking steadily at his brother the beginning of a black eye marring his face.  Genevieve Darceneaux had not been found abed either when the feral mutant had seen fit to enter her life.  A sleeveless turquoise v-neck with simple lace at sleeve edges and shirtfront the matching skirts ruffled flair hem falling a few inches above newly skinned knees comprised her outfit.  The normally pleasing lines of her face were distorted, eyes puffy from crying, tears trailed down her flushed face freely.  

"Svp! Quelqu'un m'aident! Dieu," she cried fitfully, hitches in her breathing. Sabretooth shook her roughly, her form tilting dangerously over the side and she quickly recaptured her silence.

Gambit's heart stuttered at the sight and he strove not hide any outward signs.  It was too soon. Too soon to be responsible for another life, lives.

"Hey punk," the feral growled by way of greeting the sides of his mouth almost twitching upward in a smile, "nice of ya ta show."

"What de hell is dis Sabretooth? What d' y' want?" challenged Remy his own voice dangerously low, head cocked back in a superior manner.  He stood with legs braced, bent slightly at the knee, arms relaxed at his side.  Of his body only tight shoulders betrayed any of the terseness that was pinching his insides.

Gambit watched the behemoth mutant careful not to make eye contact with either Genevieve or Henri, the young thief wasn't sure he could hold any resemblance of concentration if he did.  Any advancement of his own was countered by Sabretooth backing his hostages closer to the edge so Gambit relented to circling at a distance.

"Just thought it'd been awhile since we last met up, I even brought some buddies along for the ride," he chuckled not at all surprised that the young thief had figured out his identity considering whom he worked for.  "Found out ya were gonna be here, and big brother was gonna be here…just couldn't resist.  I'd a brought yer dad too but, whoops, looks like somebody done got ta 'em first.  So I had ta substitute with Frenchie here," Sabretooth smirked lips pulling back to reveal fangs.

"Keep talkin' 'Tooth, y' jus' pissed dat a kid half y' size and a third y' age kicked y' ass," Remy smirked distracting the feral with his words while a trio of cards fell skillfully into his palm. At the right angle he could sever the ropes and deal a punishing blow to the half-crazed blonde feral.

"Careful Cajun, unless ya want 'em both ta go splat right now.  Ya think I'm that flaming stupid?  I tend ta learn from my mistakes, don't try that shit with yer powers, I can smell 'em."

Gambit gave the man a disdainful look but acquiesced dropping the de-charged cards unto the rooftop.  There simply wasn't enough time, charging Sabretooth would only be helpful for two of them. He could save one of the hostages and still be able to fight, but not two, and the feral's grin suggested he knew it.  Gene didn't mean much to him personally but she was human and her blue eyes plead for her life more eloquently than any of her whispered prayers.

"The jewel kid, I know ya got it.  I figure this is only fair Swamps, ya stole something from me, so I get ta return the favor, course that interest is always a killer," he said in mock disappointment.

"Y' want it, we switch. Put dem down, an' y' get de stone," the mutant thief ordered.  

"Ya know Gumbo, I just don't think ya really get what's going on here.  I have the hostages, so ya do what I say.  It ain't the other way around.  I mean ya wouldn't want ta be responsible fer this pretty little things demise wouldja?" Sabretooth asked, his overly developed frame not seemingly bothered by the continued demand on his muscles.

The teen offered a compromise tossing out the pendant betwixt the two enemies, what made the pendant so valuable a sizable, flawless and epitomely rare blue diamond winking faintly amidst its gold fashionings. 

"Dere, no risk t' either side.  Take de Etoile an' go," Gambit said sounded disgusted.

"Nah, not quite yet."

The younger thief felt his anger boiling over his cautiousness, "Y' don' seem interested in a real fight an' y' can have de damn jewel.  What else is dere?  Y' jus' stickin' round t' torture me?"

"Yeah," he replied with a coarse laugh, "ya finally got it."  Staring into slanted crimson and ebony eyes the feral mutant dropped the ropes shoving the pair over the railing, stepping away laughing cruelly at the disbelief in the face of the younger mutant.  Sabretooth grabbed the abandoned pendant leaving his scurrying prey for another time.

Gambit did the only thing he could do, his lithe body lunging desperately across the remaining meters of the rooftop for the disappearing coils of rope.  He had no where near the strength to pull them both up; at best he'd join them in their fall to the pavement below.

The ropes twisted fitfully in his grip, friction burning before slicing deeply into the tender flesh, unmerciful as he desperately tried to get any kind of a hold.  His chest slammed into the guard rail, heart hammering in his ears as he was forced to look down upon the rapidly descending figures.  Gambit knew he shouldn't be able to, but he swore he could see the desperation in Genevieve's eyes even from such a height.  The teen could feel himself going over the side when a spike of horror shot through him seeing crimson energy drip down one length of rope.  And again, he did the only thing he could, let go of the rope.

Gambit yanked his bleeding torn hand from its former grip, one coil of rope snaking downward twisting in the wind even as another pulled taunt.

Blonde hair whipped wildly as Genevieve fell past the stone visages of angels and apostles, though none broke their cement slumber to aid her that night.  The gaunt figures of gargoyles did not so much as twitch as her screams rend the air, frozen eyes watched unblinking with their grim smiles as she blew past and was no more. 

Breath still coming shallow and shaky, Gambit felt his left hand loosen its grip and he renewed it with vigor, adding the other to haul up quickly with a rapidly lessening store of strength the slender rope biting with ever handhold.  The male figure was finally pulled over the edge and the youth collapsed trembling ever so slightly, trying not to remember the one who hadn't made it, the screams, and the crunch as she hit the ground so far below.

But he had to check, leaving his brother on the ground beside the teen stood legs wobbling slightly holding his weight.  The mutant thief peered over the side, his ripped hands bleeding into the rock.  There, blonde hair glimmering in the wane light.  Her upper limbs tied kept her from contorting too far, but her stillness no less real.

A scraping sound behind him and Gambit swirled around bringing up bleeding fists with the last dredges of his adrenaline.  Sabretooth and Henri had been forgotten at the sight of Gene, another body, another death on his hands.

Henri approached warily towards his skittish brother, away from the monster Sabretooth he had been able to free himself from his own restraints Remy standing frozen flush against the wall had been of no assistance.  Henri eased beside noting when his presence finally penetrated into the mind of his brother as he joined him by the parapet.   The younger LeBeau started again and whispered urgently with a hoarse voice eyes straining to the sight below, "I think I saw her move."

"Non," the Guild Master replied in a low but firm voice, "she couldn't have made it." The shattered expression on his adoptive brother's face told him he wasn't ready for logic, and the young Guild Master gently tugged Remy from the morbid sight as police sirens wailed in the distance.

"We have t' get out of here now Remy," the elder LeBeau ordered sternly dragging the numb visage of Gambit in his wake.  They left the cathedral swiftly melting into shadows, an instinct introduced at a young age, requiring no conscious thought.  "This way Remy," Henri urged not glancing back at his young charge still pulling him along, grabbing at wrists seeming not to fear the powers he had deemed so treacherous before. "I swear I won' forget what y' done dis day, or any otha," Henri muttered feverishly.

"Gambit y' listening t' me?" Henri finally snapped, reaching a comparable area of safety.

"Oui," the teen replied though the response was long delayed.  Gene had been young, near his age only in chronology. He didn't have any feelings for Genevieve, he played her and been almost incised by her frivolous nature.  She had been no innocent, but she knew not which game she played.  He hadn't wanted her to die, he never wanted to see blood again.  The crimson puddles that stained his hands was this time his own, but the guilt was hauntingly familiar. 

Gloves, he should of worn gloves, the youth thought dazedly staring deeply into the twin lacerations on his palms. But there had been no explosion, and her body, the image seared in his mind told him she hadn't been burned, she'd been crushed.  He had seen the rope turn red, that hadn't been his imagination.  Had his powers retracted in time that he might have been able to save her? Or had it merely been a trick of the light the slickness of his own blood marking the rope that caused him to release her to her doom?  Had his powers even activated at all? In the moment, he thought he knew, but now wasn't certain.  He didn't even like Gene, so why couldn't he breathe?

"Gambit….Remy," Henri started again, grasping his younger brother's face in his hands tightly brushing back bangs, relieved when a spark in the red eyes revealed active consciousness once more.

"This… dis deal was a mistake Remy, nothing good has come of it.  Shield got y' an' me into dis mess dey have lost deir worth in my eyes," he paused.  "Gambit y'r absolved from any bindings t' Shield and de rest of dose morons.  An' 'm sorry, mais y' know I can't lift a banishment once it's been given, y' can't return to New Orleans. Xavier…"

"Xavier isn't a problem anymore," Remy spoke quietly.  Henri's eyes narrowed slightly but he kept his silence on the matter before broached another with a more somber air.

"Darceneaux, Remy she might have lived if not f'…"

"Sabretooth," Gambit said dully the same instant Henri replied,

"Y' powers."  There was a dead drop of silence and the Guild Master watched Gambit shrink in upon himself but Henri refused to relinquish his hold watching the shades of horror washing across the youth's features.

"Dis isn't de first or de second time y'r powers have killed someone Remy.  Y' need help before it's too late an' another innocent dies.  Pere, merde he could have lived f' so long Remy…" Henri's voice fell off into the night.  Withdrawing a crumpled business card that had managed to survive Henri curled it into his younger brother's lax hand, "Go get help, mon frère before it's too late," he cautioned.

The next sweep of a police helicopter broke up their conversation, each blending back into their surroundings.  But when the copter disappeared from sight, Henri had disappeared with it.  Feeling an unnatural chill the thief looked down at the delicate white card as red stains slowly ate up its surface.  Sirens still fled by in the night, and a faint wind whispered by gently rousing tangled auburn strands.  Scribed skillfully in small black print were the words _Dr. Nathaniel Essex._

**The End**

REVIEWERS: I am truly grateful for all the time, effort and encouragement you guys gave me and this story by reviewing. And having that said…Man am I glad it's over!! This took almost a year to write, and I for one, am glad it's dead…I mean finished…   .

Extra special thanks to DarkElf3 you had a review way back when which was the eventual inspiration for this chapter [having said so, hopefully you like which you inspired.] : )

Acadian Angel, Aethena, Akutsuin, Aldrean Treu Peri, Alhandra, Alisx123, Amazonestar, Anime-05, Azurielle, BJ2, Brattax23, Brazos, Bronny, Calsun, Carla-p, CiCi, Dark Elf3, Deb, Diablo, Dumplin', Elfsong, Eliz2k, Equinox, Fenris-wolf, Gabby, Gator Bait, Girlonthem00n, Golden Elanor, Hickory, Ingram, Ima Super Mute Ant,  Ishandahalf, Jebrylla, Jinni, Jo the Phoenix, Jukebox, kaosda, KCbakeneko, Keebler-elmo, Kismet Noelani, Kits, Kizmet, Ladine, LadyLyte, Lafayette, Lebeaufriend, Lindsay, Liv, LizzyTygrestick, LotusPen, Love and Justice, Lovelyaceinthehole, Lynette, Lynn, Mad Alice, Meeyr, Miss Attitude, Mystery, Nagelic hat, Nari1, Neko, Neoxer, Neurotic Temptress, Out-foxed, P-Chan211,Quarter Moon, Rachel, Rads: full name Radicals, Rae, Rehsh, Rekka s Girl, Robin, Rogue Elf, Rupeshwari, Samson, Sailor Wade, Sall, Shade, Shinigami-chan, Silent, Smeg1, Sophia, Sue, Tamara, Tigressong, Toffee, Trendwest, Trouble, Tupper, Tygrestick, Valiowk, Wezlar, Wildcard00, WildfireFriendship,Willow, WitchyMitchy, Wolfclan_88, Wulfsbayne,  X3


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